


Tweek Hated Parties

by Mattycakes



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5236061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mattycakes/pseuds/Mattycakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set when they're teenagers, a Creek centric fic with lots of high school angst basically. Tweek attends a party after having been out of the social loop for some time, and Craig is the first person to hang out and talk to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. McCormick Mystery Drink

Tweek hated parties. They aggravated his social anxiety and made him jumpier and edgier than he normally was. 

He also hated confrontation, which was the only reason he was even at this stupid party in the first place. Since pretty much every kid in class knew the twitchy teenager had access to multitudes of prescription medication, he’d found himself unable to say no when the other kids had essentially bullied him into attending Token’s “My Parents Are Out Of Town’ party. Tweek now sat smoking nervously on one of what were apparently multiple balconies attached to Token’s parent’s mansion.

“Hey.” Tweek knew that stoic voice, and wasn’t surprised when he turned to see Craig Tucker standing in the doorway to the balcony.

“Aren’t you freezing?” Craig asked, frowning at Tweek’s ill-buttoned shirt, the only defence the blonde had against the cold night air.

“No. No I’m fine. I’m great,” Tweek lied, his hand already guiding the burning cigarette to his mouth to stop himself from talking. Tweek had started smoking largely because he noticed that his babbling and vocal outbursts were minimized when he had something else to do with his hands and mouth. 

“That’s really bad for you,” Craig said, nodding at the cigarette in Tweek’s shaking hand. “Bad for anxiety, too.”

“What… makes you think I have anxiety?” Tweek joked, his body convulsing in a sudden nervous spasm. He was actually quite cold, and his ticks always got worse in the cold. 

“No reason, just the drugstore you bought in your backpack. Xanax, Valium, Ritalin, Dexamphetamine… is there anything you didn’t bring?”

“Sleeping pills,” Tweek answered. He didn’t want anyone mixing those with alcohol. “And some other stuff that wouldn’t really do anything for anyone else.” 

Craig frowned. “You going to be okay? Like, don’t you need all of that stuff?”

Tweek shook his head. “I have more than enough. I don’t even take them every day. Most days it doesn’t even feel like they do anything. Some days, they just make me feel like only half of me is there. I don’t know.” He closed his eyes and took a drag to shut himself up. 

Craig nodded thoughtfully. “Ever tried weed?” he suggested

Tweek jerked suddenly, his eyes flying open. “Argh! What? No! That’s illegal!”

“Not in Colorado,” Craig countered with a self-satisfied bounce. 

“For minors it is!” Tweek argued, his voice rising shrilly with nerves.

Craig rolled his eyes. “You’re drinking and smoking underage, which is also illegal and actually worse for you. You’re also technically trespassing since the homeowners don’t know you’re here, you’ve illegally handed out medication prescribed only to you by a medical professional…”

Tweek narrowed his eyes, one still twitching slightly. “You know I have anxiety, right?”

Craig laughed and reached into his blue jacket pocket. It was so like the one Tweek remembered from their earlier years, but Craig himself was taller, more muscular, and wouldn’t possibly still fit into that thing. He withdrew a fat, white joint, and motioned for Tweek to pass the lighter. Tweek glanced behind them nervously, chewing on his lip.

“Tweek, no pressure but I promise you, we are not the only people smoking weed in this house right now.”

Tweek hesitated, then nodded and passed his cigarette lighter and sucked in a nervous breath as Craig put the filter between his teeth and aimed the pointed tip, cupping his hand around it to shield it from the wind. He sparked the lighter and sucked, catching the tip alight. Tweek watched, fascinated as Craig took a deep drag, then suddenly thrust the joint towards Tweek, his face a shade pinker. 

“For fucks sake, take it,” Craig said in a strained voice, smoke escaping from the corners of his mouth. Tweek fumbled but took the joint, inhaling like he would a cigarette. 

“Careful, that’s only a rolled cardboard filter, not cotton” Craig said, exhaling his hit just as Tweek started spluttering smoke into the air between them. He took the joint from Tweek’s flailing hand and took another smooth drag as Tweek gulped down mouthfuls of his drink to soothe the burn. He’d only just started to breathe normally when Craig was waving the joint in his face again. 

Inhaling slower this time, pulling off occasionally to mix in the breath of cool night air, Tweek pulled in the fragrant smoke, enjoying a little this time the bearable burn spreading through his chest. 

“Hold it in,” Craig suggested, taking the joint back and having another puff. 

They passed it back and forth for a while until it was gone, then loitered on the patio furniture a while longer to finish their drinks. Tweek didn’t think the weed was really working, but then Tweek’s brain and body started to feel heavy and time seemed to slow down and just when Tweek was certain hours had passed and they’d spent the whole party on the balcony, he realised they had only been up here half an hour at most. 

“We should get more drinks, though, have a piss,” Craig said, and Tweek agreed with both those sentiments. “Oh, and get you a jacket or something before you freeze.” 

Tweek nodded, only just noticing how cold he was, and how much his body was shivering. He also realised with belated surprise that it had been a considerable time since his last noticeable body spasm. Tweek’s myoclonic twitches were definitely the most frustrating and embarrassing symptom of his anxiety, the one he knew people noticed and judged the most. But his muscles felt more relaxed than usual right now, as did his mind. Tweek decided he liked being stoned. 

“Kicking in?” Tweek heard Craig asked from somewhere in the room. Oh, next to him, Craig was next to him. They were in line for the bathroom, Tweek realised suddenly. “You seem better. You should consider getting one of those prescriptions. You’d get it cheaper, I think. Hook me up if you do, yeah?”

“Sure,” Tweek agreed, without really remembering what it was he was agreeing to, and Craig laughed. He had a nice laugh, Tweek thought. He was kind of a nice person, had he always been this nice? Or this nice looking? That was a weird thought, Tweek realised, blushing. He blamed it on the joint. 

“Jesus, I didn’t realise how cold you were, your lips are actually blue.” Craig tilted against the hallway wall, shifting his leaning weight against Tweek’s shivering side to help warm him up. Craig was really warm, Tweek realised, leaning into it without thinking, wondering when Craig had become so tall that Tweek’s cheek barely brushed his shoulder. Craig was really warm and really nice. Craig’s face looked nice, too. And like it would be warm. Tweek put his hand on it, to test the temperature, and Craig snatched it suddenly. 

For one heart stopping moment, Tweek was jolted back to reality. He jerked his arm to yank his hand back, but Craig held on. 

“Craig, Tweek, stop trying to hook up,” someone else in line catcalled and Craig released Tweek’s hand as though it had scalded him. 

“I-I-I didn’t…” Tweek stammered, wondering what could have possessed him to do something as stupid as touch Craig’s face when the bathroom door banged open.

“What? It’s a party!” Tweek heard someone yell, before an aqua and blonde streak left the bathroom and disappeared down the hall. Tweek realised with relief that he was next in line. He jerked back from Craig and disappeared behind the safety of a closed bathroom door, groaning and shaking his head. Of course, the first person to talk to Tweek like a human being in months had been Craig, and of course, Tweek had made it… weird.

“Hey!” Tweek jumped at the voice and spun around. Kenny McCormick was kneeling in front of the closed toilet, the hood of his parka thrown back to show a deeply annoyed expression knitted across his blonde brows.

“Oh… shit… I thought I saw someone leave here,” Tweek said to Kenny, who was neatly crushing up pills on the lid. Among which, Tweek recognized a few of the Ritalin he had brought. Kenny sighed, irritated, and started crushing with new vigour. 

“Yeah, that was just my mother,” Kenny said sarcastically, and with a definite slur to his words. Clearly, what lay on the toilet lid weren’t the first chemicals Kenny had put in his system tonight. Tweek could see that although Kenny carried himself with a practised air of lucidity, his focus was taking effort. Tweek recognized the act, having performed it himself on days where he’d needed to double up on his meds just to face going to school. 

Kenny caught Tweek eyeing the crumbling pills. “I hope you don’t think I’m going to share,” Kenny warned.

“Those are my pills,” Tweek said without thinking, and Kenny raised an eyebrow. 

“Then thank you so very much, most gracious of party guests, and won’t you have a seat,” Kenny drawled in a pitched English accent. “Might I offer you a refreshment?” Kenny withdrew a Gatorade bottle from the depths of his parka, the contents of which were a brown-green. Kenny’s eyes shot up in surprise when Tweek accepted it, as though he hadn’t actually thought the twitchy blonde would have enough guts to imbibe a McCormick Mystery Drink. Truthfully, Tweek was kind of grateful for the random distraction of Kenny, whose presence was probably the only thing keeping him from having a minor social anxiety attack over his stupid, stupid face touching thing with Craig. 

There was, however, one pressing issue, which became more pressing with each passing second. Tweek eyed the closed toilet. “I actually have to go.” He announced.

“Then use the sink,” Kenny answered boredly, swigging his bottle and grinding the pills further into powder. “I won’t look. That’s a lie. I will definitely look. But I also definitely won’t move any of this until it’s done.” 

Tweek fidgeted uncomfortably, then sighed and stood, the alcohol and weed in his system having slackened his inhibitions. He could feel Kenny’s eyes flicking up occasionally from his task as Tweek relieved himself in Token’s sink, and felt a bit irritated, but also oddly flattered that Kenny would consider him worth looking at. Rumours about Kenny McCormick’s orientation had flooded the school since third grade, and Kenny hadn’t denied a single one of them. By middle school, everyone was bored with guessing and accepted that Kenny liked whatever Kenny liked and it was pointless to try and categorize him. Tweek had always kind of liked Kenny for how he’d handled that situation. Or rather, how his utter refusal to give a shit had made it go away. 

When all the powder was in three neat lines, Kenny regarded his craftsmanship and laughed humourlessly to himself. “Tweek, can I borrow a dollar? Only if you have a bill.”

Tweek zipped his pants and rooted around in the pockets, passing Kenny a five, which Kenny rolled into a tight tube and inserted into his nostril. He snorted the first line, and switched nostrils for the second. Then, he passed the bill to Tweek. 

“I don’t want it back,” Tweek said, partly because he felt Kenny could use the money, partly because he didn’t really want Kenny’s boogers. 

Kenny indicated the remaining line. “I don’t have a third nostril, you fuckstick. If you don’t snort this, it’s going up my ass.”

Tweek raised an eyebrow. “How do you suck a line up your ass?”

“I do my kegels,” Kenny deadpanned, and both the boys laughed for a moment before Kenny said “you’re more likeable right now for some reason. What is it? What are you on?” Kenny leaned forward and sniffed. “Hmm. Someone’s been on the green.” Kenny leaned forward and snorted the last line. “Argh, two up one, that burns, you dick. But I like you this way. You should get one of those medical prescription whatsits. You could probably get one, you’re clearly super fucked up.” 

“Thanks,” Tweek said dryly, but he had to admit, he felt pretty good. Relaxed, even. Until Kenny leaned towards him, towering over Tweek until he was flat on his back on the bathroom floor. 

“K-Kenny?” Tweek stuttered, his brain and body flooding with new sensations, none of which Tweek wanted to be experiencing right now, on this bathroom floor. Kenny was heavy, he smelled like sweat and alcohol and something distinctively boyish and Tweek didn’t like this situation, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he liked that smell, and the heavy assuredness of the solid weight on top of him.

“Kenny, get off,” Tweek said, struggling lightly against Kenny’s body. Kenny snickered and slid his leg in between Tweek’s, grazing his thigh along Tweek’s crotch with practised ease. “I’m trying to,” he said sleazily, that same slurred edge to his words. He rolled his hips against Tweek’s involuntary reaction to being a teenager with another, living person pressed against him. 

“C’mon, Tweek, it’s a party,” Kenny whispered in Tweek’s ear before tracing it with his tongue, and Tweek clenched his eyes shut against the spark of right that he really didn’t want to feel amongst all the wrong. 

“Kenny, dude, what’re you doing?” Tweek asked softly, pushing the other boy lightly, not hard enough to push him off, but hard enough to let Kenny know that Tweek was serious about wanting to stop. Kenny froze with his face in the crook of Tweek’s neck, completely still as if coming to his senses. 

“Shit, Tweek, I don’t even know,” Kenny said, his words still slurring that little bit. “Fuck, what am I doing, why am I doing this to him, Tweek, what’s wrong with me?” And then Tweek realised Kenny McCormick was crying, on top of him, on Token’s bathroom floor. 

“N-nothing, man, nothing’s wrong with you,” Tweek said, the words coming automatically, the words he knew everyone who feared something was wrong with them wanted to hear. Tweek’s arms came up around Kenny’s back in a comforting hug before he registered an angry banging sound from the other side of the bathroom door. 

“He shouldn’t want me,” Kenny was weeping into Tweek’s neck, getting it wet with what Tweek hoped was tears. “He’s too good for me, and he doesn’t even see it, how fucked up I really am. Fuck Tweek, you have no idea, someone like him shouldn’t be with something like me, it’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s…” 

“J-j-j-just a second!” Tweek managed to shout at the door, intending to help Kenny splash some water on his face and head to another, less ‘in demand’ section of the house. “He should leave me,” Kenny slurred, his breath hitching with sobs. “He’d be better without me, he should fucking leave me…”

The door shouted back in a familiar, hesitant voice “Tweek? Kenny, are you still in there?” The door started emitting frantic knocks.

“Butters,” Kenny said, looking up from Tweek’s neck in alarm. Tweek heard the bang of the door, and the burst of increased volume. He was still on his back, still with his arms around Kenny’s weight holding him down, but Tweek could tilt his head back to survey the scene just outside the bathroom door. 

A small crowd of their classmates were gathered, some staring, pointing or laughing, some actually taking pictures with their iPhones. Craig was there, eyes round in slight disbelief at the sight of Tweek on his back with Kenny McCormick on top of him. But Craig’s expression was not the most eye-catching one in the hall. 

Butters Stotch stood with his hand braced on the doorframe, staring directly at Kenny with an expression of utter heartbreak written across his innocent features.

“F-fuck you, Ken!” Butters shouted, his eyes already brimming over with tears as he pointed accusingly at Kenny and took off the hall.


	2. Aftermath and Jackets

Kenny swore and rolled off Tweek, staggering to his feet with what looked like considerable effort. “Butters, wait, I didn’t… I mean, I did, but it’s not what you think, Butters, please…” Kenny was saying, stumbling and swaying as he shoved his way through hoards of people, many of whom were turning to glare at Tweek, who felt the panic in his stomach start to bubble. 

Swiftly, Craig stepped in and closed the bathroom door behind him. “Are you serious?” Tweek heard someone shout from the other side. 

“There are like twelve bathrooms in this house, dickcheese! Find another one!” Craig shouted, banging it angrily with his fist. Tweek sat with his back against the bathtub, his face buried in shaking palms. 

“What the fuck did I just do?” Tweek muttered into his hands. 

Craig huffed. “Trust me, Tweek, you didn’t do anything. I know you haven’t been hanging out with us lately, but this isn’t exactly surprising. Uh, I got you a coat.” Craig said awkwardly, holding out what Tweek presumed was one of Token’s winter coats Craig must have dug out some drawer or other while Tweek was in the bathroom. 

“Thanks,” Tweek said gratefully, accepting the coat and wrapping himself in the folds of fabric, wishing he could just keep going until he was lost. Craig was being so kind, but when Tweek’s nerves got like this, all he wanted to do was stop existing; it wasn’t that he was suicidal, he just tended to get weirdly existential when he got anxious.

Craig sniggered. “Looks better on you than Token. You should keep it.”

Tweek smiled. His high was wearing off, but he supposed it must still be lingering somewhat because that tone almost sounded flirtatious. Which was ridiculous. Craig was straight. Wasn’t he? It was true, Tweek had been out of the loop for a couple of years now. He’d known about Kenny – out of the loop didn’t mean under a rock – but Kenny’s relationship with Butters had come as a complete surprise to Tweek, whereas Craig apparently knew all along. But that didn’t mean he was gay, Tweek scolded himself. There were such things as straight dudes who didn’t freak out over their friends being gay. A thought that Tweek found encouraging and depressing at the same time.

Someone pounded on the other side of the bathroom door, and Craig looked sympathetically at Tweek, whose face had lit up with renewed terror at the thought of the hoard of judgemental teenagers on the other side. “You want to go somewhere with less DICKHEADS bothering us?” Craig asked loudly, and Tweek smiled weakly. Tweek supposed they had to emerge sometime. But the idea of confronting those angry faces and Kenny’s tears and Butters' heartbreak was making the air move in and out of Tweek’s chest rapidly and soon he was hyperventilating without even meaning to. 

“Whoa, easy, what do you need?” Craig said, and Tweek shook his head pathetically hating that he was embarrassing himself like this in front of Craig of all people. But stronger than his embarrassment, stronger than any of his emotions as always was the panic, rearing its head like the ugly monster it was, spreading through Tweek’s system and taking control the way it did every single fucking time. 

“Need to get out,” Tweek gasped, his body shaking with anxiety. “Please, Jesus, please get me out of here…” 

“Yeah, that’s cool, let’s go,” Craig said. “Alright, assholes, back off, we’re coming out, back the fuck off.” Tweek stared at the bathroom door like it was a portal to hell, and for Tweek, it essentially was. The door opened, and there stood a crowd people, staring down at Tweek with condemnation and fury; it was like one of Tweek’s worst nightmare’s come to life. 

“Oh shit, oh Christ, please don’t make me…” Tweek was babbling like a child under his breath, couldn’t help clinging to Craig as though for protection. If it bothered Craig at all, he chose not to let it show, but instead put a protective arm around Tweek’s shoulders and dragged him through the crowd.

“Ignore them,” Craig muttered, striding through the crowd with purpose, directly towards the front door. Tweek’s eyes burned with humiliation, but he was relieved for Craig, without whom he would be stumbling through this angry crowd, trying to find the exit all alone. 

“Here we go,” Craig said, and Tweek groaned in relief as the cold, quiet night air stung his face. He was still wearing Token’s jacket, Tweek realised as the chilly burn failed to assault his top half. He would have to return it on Monday. Tweek started to breathe heavily again. 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s cool, Tweek, we’re gone, nobody’s around,” Craig said, rubbing Tweek’s back soothingly. Tweek noticed a familiar smell in the air and saw Craig was waving another lit joint under his nose. 

“Only if you want to,” Craig said seriously. “Some people say it helps anxiety, some say it causes it. Helps me, it seemed to help you, but you don’t have to…” Craig trailed off as Tweek took the herbal cigarette and inhaled gratefully. He kind of wanted an actual cigarette, but for now the paper tube in his hand was satisfying a lot of the behavioural cravings. Maybe he’d save his next cigarette for tomorrow. 

“Wow, that’s like instant with you,” Craig said, laughing a little as Tweek visibly relaxed. The blonde took a second hit and then a third, against weed etiquette, but Craig didn’t correct him, glad to see the panic slowly ebb away from Tweek’s face. 

“Shit. Did I ruin Token’s party?” Tweek asked as they left Token’s upper class neighbourhood and headed down the dark, snowy main street together. They were headed for Tweek’s house, but Craig wanted to take the slightly longer route. Just to make sure Tweek had time to calm down before going to sleep, obviously. 

“Nah, shit like that happens every time Token has a party,” Craig assured him truthfully. “Believe me, if it hadn’t been you, it would have been-”

“You,” Tweek said suddenly with a laugh. “You were next in line. If I hadn’t have been before you, it would have been you in the bathroom with Kenny.” 

Craig thought for a moment, then chuckled. “Shit, maybe you’re right. And I don’t know what I’d have done in that situation.” Craig looked at Tweek slyly. “You never actually told me, by the way. What the situation was.” 

Tweek flushed, but after all Craig had done, didn’t feel right about not even telling him what had actually happened. Especially since Craig wasn’t bringing up Tweek’s stupid face-touching, which Tweek hoped the other boy had written down to Tweek having never smoked pot before. So, Tweek reluctantly filled Craig in on what had happened in the bathroom, sucking on the joint in between sentences as though just reiterating was taxing. 

When Tweek was finished, Craig sighed. “Shit, well the crying is new. Normally he’s leaking other fluids when the door bangs open.” He grinned, but Tweek didn’t smile back. He felt kind of bad for Kenny. He’d always been a little messed up, in an adorably precocious kind of way, but Tweek wondered what was going on in Kenny’s head if his antics at Token’s party were considered a part of a normal pattern of his current behaviour by his friends.

“Is Butters going to be okay?” Tweek asked, remembering sadly the crestfallen expression on Butters face. 

“I don’t know,” Craig answered honestly. “It’s all pretty messed up, I’ll say that. Maybe you did the right thing by steering clear of all this drama.” 

Tweek flinched. He knew he was in large part to blame for his teenage isolation, that he had started to become a shut in when his anxiety had worsened. But he also felt that at a certain age, he had started to be actively excluded, except for when his medication became of interest, as it had for Token’s party.

“Hey, that was a joke,” Craig said in a softer voice. “You should really hang out with us more often, you know. We all kind of miss you.”

Tweek wanted to smile at that, but then he remembered the angry faces glaring at him after the bathroom door had opened. “I think it’s a bit late for that now,” Tweek said sadly. 

Craig blew a raspberry into the air. “Oh what _ever_. Tweek, I promise you, let them have their weekend of gossip and everyone will get over it. I swear the next party you come to will go better. In the meantime, you can always hang with me, okay?” 

Tweek was heartened by that. Even if everyone else hated him, Craig wanted to be his friend.

“Thanks for tonight, Craig,” Tweek said quietly, realising that they had come to his front door. The lights were out, and Tweek’s parents were asleep. They were used to their son getting in at all hours of the night, and would sometimes get up to brew him a fresh pot of coffee before returning to bed. Tonight though, Tweek was being extra cautious not to wake them. He really didn’t want them wrecking this goodbye with Craig, stupid as that may sound. 

“Anytime, man,” Craig said, and Tweek felt the weed in his system elate him slightly, but it paled in comparison to what Tweek felt when Craig took a bold step forwards, standing directly in front of Tweek. 

_He’s going to kiss me_ , Tweek thought dazedly, his cheeks turning red and his legs feeling rubbery and a thrilling shock spiking in his stomach and groin. Tweek’s heart felt like it would explode from beating so fast as Craig’s hands came up and took hold of Tweek’s jacket. 

_Token’s jacket_ , Tweek’s brain corrected him. _Shit,_ Tweek realised, Craig was just trying to take back Token’s jacket. 

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Tweek babbled, scrambling in his haste to remove the expensive garment. Craig smiled when Tweek emerged flustered and holding the bundle of fabric at arms length. 

Craig took the jacket with a smile. “Come find me on Monday, yeah?” he said as he walked away from Tweek’s front door. “Night, Tweek.” 

“N-night Craig,” Tweek said awkwardly, opening the door and falling with relief into his parents home. 

Silently, Tweek toed his way upstairs, careful not to turn on any lights or make any noise that might disturb his parents. When he finally reached the sanctuary of his bedroom, he locked the door, thumped his head against it and groaned in equal parts self chastisement and arousal. First, he’d touched Craig’s face. Then, he’d actually thought Craig was going to kiss him. For one stupid, perfect second, Tweek was certain that it was going to happen. And now, he was hard. What the actual fuck was wrong with him?

Tweek shook his head, grinding his frizzy hair against the door. He’d wondered a little if he was gay or bi before, but hadn’t really bothered to address the issue in depth. It had seemed laughably irrelevant, since nobody in town, boy or girl, would so much as speak to the weird kid unless they wanted meds, yet alone consider dating him. Which is exactly why Tweek couldn’t go ruining the only friendship he’d been offered in years all over some stupid crush, Tweek told himself firmly, even as he bit his lip and imagined what might be happening right now if Craig _had_ kissed him. 

Maybe he did have a crush, Tweek conceded as he moved a hand to the tent between his legs and squeezed tenderly, legs shaking at the shock of sensation it elicited. But a crush is all it ever would be.

Eyes closed, Tweek backed up until he felt his legs hit the end of his bed. Tweek dared to imagine pale, strong hands pushing at his shoulders as his legs buckled beneath him and his back thudded against his duvet. Not even bothering to undress, Tweek undid the front of his pants with twitching hands and grit his teeth to keep in the noise of relief threatening to burst out of him. He didn’t do this often, his anxiety and meds made it somewhat difficult, but right now Tweek didn’t feel like he could avoid doing this if he tried. Keeping his eyes firmly closed, and his lower lip pinched between his teeth, Tweek silently touched himself in the dark of his room, pushing aside the guilt he knew he would inevitably feel tomorrow and allowing himself to imagine Craig’s face, his smile, his laugh, his kindness. Tweek’s anxiety, which usually chastised him for thinking such things, had been silenced by the haze of cannabis in Tweek’s brain; Tweek could only hear the parts of his mind that whispered for him to keep going, to feel good, that it was okay.

Tweek brought his hand to his mouth and licked along his palm, turning his head sideways to groan and bite into his pillow as he lowered his hand and resumed his ministrations with aided slickness. Tweek’s hand was moving faster now, his breath hitching and his legs squirming restlessly as the warm pleasure between them coiled steadily to breaking point.

Unbidden, Tweek’s brain suddenly supplied him with a helpful memory of the evening that he hadn’t thought to consider before, given that he’d been a bit stoned and in the middle of an anxiety attack. 

_You were next in line. If I hadn’t have been before you, it would have been you.  
Shit, maybe you’re right. And I don’t know what I’d have done in that situation._

Tweek’s orgasm hit him like a punch. _Holy shit,_ some distant, faraway part of Tweek’s brain thought, as every other part of him allowed itself to go completely mute in the moment of _hot, intense, good_. As his pleasure started to recede into a sleepiness that was rare for Tweek, he wondered if he was just looking too far into a comfortable straight dude’s off the cuff remark. 

Or if his crush had the potential to develop into something after all.


	3. Monday Morning

Monday morning was torture for Tweek. He was used to getting around the school unnoticed, save for the occasional snide remark or shove from a particularly cocky jock type. But it seemed Kenny and Tweek’s alleged hook up, and Butters and Kenny’s very real break up had been the hot topic of gossip all weekend. There were even pictures, which Tweek had spent a good part of Sunday morning going through on Facebook. He’d then spent a good part of Sunday afternoon trying to medicate himself into a coma so he wouldn’t have a panic-induced heart attack. He’d only been able to convince himself to go to school after doubling up on his meds and waiting a good hour for them to kick in, and even with the blurred edges and slowed haze, reality was terrifying today. 

Tweek hadn’t even made it onto school grounds before the expressions of everyone around him darkened, and Tweek’s palms started to go clammy. Tweek scanned the crowd for Craig’s blue hat, but with every turn he just saw people whispering behind their hands, glaring, or sniggering. “Looking for Kenny?” someone actually snapped at Tweek, who flinched and recoiled as though it had been a slap. By the time the bell rang, Tweek was already considering helping himself to one of the handfuls of little white pills he’d shoved into the small front pocket of his backpack that morning.

Five minutes into first period, Craig arrived late, flashing Tweek a quick smile that earned him daggers from onlookers. Although the presence of the teacher prevented the other teens from speaking to Tweek, he could feel their eyes flicking towards him, throwing spite and anger his way. Craig had become a part of the gossip as well, it seemed, as Tweek noticed Craig was getting his fair share of glares himself. The only difference was, people never out rightly bullied Craig Tucker. Tweek, on the other hand, spent most of the morning plucking spit balls from the back of his neck.

At lunchtime, Tweek was debating whether or not to skip eating his meal in favour of cowering in the toilet behind the safety of a locked stall door when a football came flying out of nowhere to land directly on his tray, spraying him with half his school lunch. Nearly the whole cafeteria erupted into laughter, and Tweek’s heart felt like it was drowning in the miserable adrenaline flowing through his chest, and Tweek got ready to run to the nearest bathroom to have a quiet panic attack, when a firm hand came to rest on his shoulder. 

“Jason, you’re an absolute dick and you throw a football like an arthritic vagina,” Craig Tucker called in the direction from which the lobbed football had come. “Hey Tweek,” he added, sitting down next to Tweek and wincing at the mess on his shirt. “I was really hoping to get here before anyone did anything food related, but Mr Mackey kept me back for some shit or other, wasn’t really listening...”

“He was telling you to stop saying ‘shit’,” a soft voice said from the other side of the table, and Tweek jumped, looking away from Craig. Butters of all people was sitting directly opposite Tweek. He looked tired, and sad, but he wasn’t looked at Tweek with any anger, which made a distinct change from the way most of the school had been looking at him. Tweek felt almost guilty for Butters lack of anger towards him; if anyone had the right to hate Tweek, it was Butters. 

“You want a quarter of my sandwich?” Butters said, offering Tweek a baloney and cheese white bread triangle, which Tweek accepted gratefully and awkwardly. Craig was chewing a mouthful of his lunch thoughtfully, flicking his eyes back and forth between the two. Tweek was fidgeting uncomfortably, suddenly very aware that the buzz of the cafeteria had quietened a notch, and various tables of students kept flicking their little group inquisitive little glances. 

“I told Butters what happened,” Craig said quietly but suddenly into their awkward silence, and Tweek froze. He was relieved and mortified that someone had pointed out the elephant in the room. “What _really_ happened,” he added, glaring at a whispering eavesdropper at the next table, who blushed and looked away.

Butters smiled, and even that managed to look miserable. “I know you’re a good guy, Tweek. An’ I know you didn’t know ‘bout me and Ken…” 

“I didn’t,” Tweek said, breaking his silence, “and, um, Kenny and me, we didn’t…”

For one moment, Butters misery broke through to a tiny sliver of anger. “Tweek, are you seriously going to tell me Kenny didn’t try anything with you at all?”

Twitching, Tweek, looked down at his splattered plate. He heard Butters laugh humourlessly. “Yeah, well. I’m real sorry you got dragged into this, and that everyone’s giving you a hard time coz of us… especially since you were so nice to bring that stuff to the party like the other guys asked…” Butters trailed off and Tweek winced, remembering Kenny chopping up Tweek’s prescription meds on the toilet lid, snorting it with Tweek’s money. How Butters didn’t hate Tweek’s guts was a mystery to him. But then, occasional bad spells notwithstanding, Butters had never been a particularly angry or hateful person at heart. He wondered how hard Kenny had pushed him over the years to elicit the anger Tweek had seen at Token’s party.

“I’m really sorry too, Butters,” Tweek said quietly and sincerely. Butters did that same thin lipped half smile. It seemed genuine, just very sad. 

“You look like shit, by the way,” Craig said into the tense silence. 

Tweek didn’t argue; he knew if he looked half as bad as he felt, he probably looked dreadful. “I need a cigarette,” he admitted.

“Want to skip the rest of the day?” Craig offered, glancing at Butters to indicate he was included, but Butters shook his head. 

“I don’t think I want to get grounded on top of everything else,” he said in a small voice.

Tweek nodded. “Yeah, I think I do.”  


*

Half an hour later, Tweek was walking down the street gratefully smoking a much needed cigarette while Craig winced. “How many do you smoke a day?” he asked worriedly. 

“I don’t keep track. It varies,” Tweek replied honestly. “More if I’m stressed.”

“So usually more, then,” Craig answered, and Tweek had to admit he was right. “Today pretty stressful, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tweek admitted. “Probably worse for Butters though,” he said in a quieter voice. “And Kenny,” he added, and then realised something. By the shift in Craig’s features, he’d realised the same thing. 

“Did you see Kenny at school today?” Craig asked and Tweek shook his head.

“Guess he couldn’t face the crowd,” Craig muttered. “Pretty gutless if you ask me. Butters showed up, cleared the air with you, even.” 

Tweek didn’t say anything. Craig could be so kind, but seemed to be unforgiving where Kenny was concerned. “Shouldn’t we check on him?” Tweek asked nervously, and Craig grit his teeth. 

“I’m sure he’s doing just fine,” he answered in a monotone and Tweek frowned. 

“I thought you were his friend,” Tweek accused, and Craig gave him an irritated look. “I really want to make sure he’s okay,” Tweek added and Craig’s annoyed expression darkened. 

“Sure, why not? I need to buy weed off his brother anyhow,” Craig muttered, and the two set off for Kenny’s house.

*

“Thanks for the bag, man,” Craig was saying to Kevin as Tweek sat awkwardly in the living room, eyeing Mr and Mrs McCormick nervously, but they didn’t seem particularly concerned by the fact that their eldest son was selling pot to teenagers. They were staring vacantly at the television, each with a drink in their hand.

“Uh, before we go, is Kenny home?” Tweek asked, looking at Craig who’s pleasant expression turned instantly to a scowl. 

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, in his room. Be warned though, it’s rank. He ain’t barely come outta there in a couple days.” Kenny’s parents still said nothing, nor indicated any concern at this information. 

Tweek nodded at the family and stood. “Thanks, we’re just going to say hello if that’s okay.”

“Whatever,” Mr McCormick said in a low, slurred drawl as Tweek and Craig headed for Kenny’s bedroom. Classical opera music was emitting from the other side. 

“Kenny!” Craig shouted, pounding on the door. “It’s Tweek and Craig! Open the door!”

When the door didn’t open, Craig made a noise of frustration and turned the handle impatiently. It wasn’t locked, or if it was, Kenny’s lock didn’t work. The door swung forwards and a billow of stale, pungent smoke hit Tweek in the face. 

Tweek remembered that Kenny had never had a neat room, but this place looked as though a tornado had hit it. Every drawer was open, the contents apparently having been thrown in all directions. Kenny had few possessions, but what he had appeared to have been recently broken, as had the window. In the eye of the storm, laying contemplatively still on the carpet with a Gatorade bottle bong and a shoebox by his side, was Kenny. 

“Jesus. This place is grosser than usual. What have you been doing for two days?” Craig announced as he stepped inside. 

“Killing myself over and over again.” Kenny said emotionlessly and Tweek’s gut seized. He couldn’t possibly be serious, but Tweek couldn’t shake the unsettling notion that there was truth in those words.

Craig, however, snorted. “Bullshit. You’ve been getting high and feeling sorry for yourself, and you were too chicken shit to go to school. Butters is fine, by the way,” Craig added acidly. 

“I didn’t ask,” Kenny said in that same hollow voice, but he sat up a little and reached for the shoebox near his feet. It had been decorated with various colours of ballpoint pen, and Kenny withdrew from it a grinder and proceeded to pack its contents into the bongs blackened conepiece. 

“Kenny, we just wanted to see that you were okay,” Tweek said softly, knowing already that the answer was lying right in front of him. “And I… I wanted to say I’m sorry, for what happened-”

“Whoa, what?” Craig whipped his head around. “Don’t you dare apologise, you have nothing to be sorry for. If anything he should be apologising to you.” Craig spat, giving Kenny a withering glare. “Seriously, that was Tweek’s first time out with the group in ages and you completely fucked it for him!”

Kenny smirked around the bong’s mouthpiece and raised an eyebrow as he drew off and exhaled. “I appear to have touched a nerve. You’ve never been this mad at me before, Craig.” He flicked a glance towards Tweek. 

Craig turned a shade redder. “I’m not the only one who’s mad, Kenny. Everyone’s getting real sick of your shit. Especially Butters. And the worst part is, you’re not even trying, you’re just doing whatever the fuck you want and you don’t care who gets hurt.”

“That’s my motto,” Kenny said listlessly, packing another bong. He offered it to Tweek, who declined; the Gatorade bottle and hose that comprised the device were both encrusted with brown and black and the water was well past murky. Kenny offered the bong to Craig instead. “Want one, Craig? C’mon, you’re much nicer when you smoke.”

Craig shut his eyes and Kenny shrugged, lit the bong and sunk it. “You know what, man?” Craig said in tight voice. “I can’t deal with you right now. You’re being an asshole, even for you. I’m outta here. Tweek, I’ll meet you outside if you want. And don’t you go apologizing to this fuck up, remember he’s the reason today was hell for you.”

“Fuck you, Craig.” Kenny called at the blue figure exiting the doorway. “Go on, follow your new boyfriend,” Kenny waved at Tweek, who didn’t move.

“I hope you feel better soon, Kenny. I’m sure this’ll blow over.” Tweek said. 

Kenny rolled his eyes with a wry smile and sniffed. “Thanks, Tweek, but it won’t,” he said thickly. “Craig’s right. I’m a fuck up. I fucked it. I really fucked it.” Kenny paused for a moment. “I am sorry I wrecked your night.” He added in a small voice. 

“It’s okay, Kenny,” Tweek said, realising how hollow those words sounded. It wasn’t okay. As though to illustrate the point, Kenny reached into his shoebox and started sifting through its contents to select something a bit stronger than green. “Hey Kenny? If you want to talk to anyone or anything, just know you’ve got me, okay?”

Kenny didn’t answer, so Tweek stood and left.

*

“Well, that went about as well as I was expecting,” Craig said in a bored drawl as Tweek exited the house. 

“I’m worried about him,” Tweek said, and Craig groaned. 

“Tweek, I get it,” Craig began in what Tweek supposed he thought was an understanding tone. “I get it, because that’s how we all felt about Kenny a year ago. Trust me when I say we have all tried to help him, to forgive him, to be his friend. Kenny doesn’t want help, he doesn’t give a shit about being forgiven or liked. He’s pushed everyone away and honestly I’m done trying to be friends with someone who is an active asshole to the people who care about him. And look, I know how this is going to sound…” Craig hesitated, and Tweek raised an eyebrow. 

“What? Say it,” Tweek insisted.

Craig faltered. “After what happened at the party and with Butters and everything, the kids at school aren’t going stop giving you shit about Kenny if you go hanging out with him. It’s better for you to avoid him right now.”

“Are you seriously telling me to ice someone out because everyone else is?” Tweek asked in a low voice. His chest felt tight. He knew how it felt to be shut out by the group; he’d thought Craig understood how unpleasant it was. Clearly, he didn’t if he was advising Tweek to do it to someone else. 

“It’s not icing him out, he bought this on himself,” Craig said angrily. “How d’you think Butters is going to feel if you and him become besties, huh? Don’t you think you’ve hurt him enough?”

Tweek felt those words like they were bullets. “Butters is a nice guy,” Tweek said coolly. “I think he would understand more than anyone that Kenny needs a friend right now.”

“What are you saying?” Craig said in a low voice. “You seriously think I’m not a nice person? After everything I did? You don’t even know jack shit about this situation, and now you’re acting like… like…” Craig gestured with his hands as though words alone could not describe exactly how Tweek was being, and when he did not succeed, Craig emitted a shout of frustration through gritted teeth, and that was enough for Tweek.

“You know what? I’m going home. Kenny’s not the only one acting like an asshole today.”


	4. Quiet the Storm

Tweek’s walk home passed in a numb, dream-like haze. Disassociation was an anxiety symptom that Tweek rarely experienced, but he was actually grateful for it right now. It made Tweek feel like he had retreated to some distant corner of his brain, where he could quietly hide while his body operated on a kind of autopilot. Everything was fuzzier from back here, and he couldn’t feel or think as well as he normally could, but that was a good thing, was in fact his body’s way of temporarily protecting Tweek against the inevitable onslaught of panic adrenaline that he would, no doubt, soon feel in full force.

For now though, the haze kept his breathing steady and the bulk of his twitches under control until he was back in the safety of his home. A feeling of safety that promptly turned to terror, for home was the place where Tweek could be himself, where he could let down his walls, which meant his anxiety knew it could flow freely, and judging by the swelling feeling in his chest, that flow was imminent. 

Tweek didn’t stop to see his mother in the kitchen, he would speak to her later. Right now, he needed something to quiet the storm before it hit. 

Tweek didn’t want to think about the argument he’d had with Craig. He didn’t really want to think about anything for a while. Dreamless sleep. That was what Tweek wanted. For everything and everyone to go away for a while, including himself. 

_It’s an endless loop_ , Tweek thought suddenly, _and it’s never going to stop. This is what you do._

Odd, invasive thoughts like this were common mid-anxiety and Tweek filed them into the mental vault for now as he ascended the stairs of his home and tore into his personal bathroom, opening the mirror cabinet over the sink. 

A small army of little orange bottles with white lids stood proud and waiting. The scattered assortment of actual bathroom products looked oddly out of place amid the overwhelming presence of medication. 

Tweek knew what each and every bottle contained without even having to look at the label, and he plucked the Xanax and sleeping pills from their assigned positions with practiced ease. Tweek ate what he considered to be a not-standard-but-not-dangerous dosage, chewing them despite the bitter taste because that would make them work faster. Then he sat with his back to the bathroom door, willing the world to become slower, calmer, less terrifying.

*

Twenty minutes that felt like hours later, Tweek gave a sudden twitch, startling himself out of his involuntarily stasis. He pulled himself off the bathroom floor and shook his head a little to clear it before changing his clothes, spraying the dirty ones with deodorant before throwing them in the hamper to mask the lingering cigarette smell in case his mother decided to do his laundry. Tweek gave himself a quick spray too and brushed his teeth and decided that was enough personal hygiene for today. He was already starting to think longingly of his bed and the soft, warm escape from existence it would provide.

Tweek felt calm enough now to go into the kitchen, say hello to his mother, let her know he’d taken his medication and was going to sleep. Even though it was early afternoon, Mrs. Tweak wasn’t surprised. Her insomniac son often had days where he just crashed early, but still needed to medicate himself in order to get to sleep. She told Tweek she would check on him later, and made him eat a sandwich before the meds completely killed his appetite. 

She was a good mom, Tweek thought detachedly as he fell onto the bed, numbly aware that he couldn’t be bothered pulling the blanket over himself, but that it was okay because Mom would do it when she checked on him. 

His last semi-lucid thought before he fell asleep was about Mr. and Mrs. McCormick sitting dead-eyed in their living room as one child sold drugs in front of them and the other took them while shut in his room in an obvious fit of depression. Did Kenny’s mother make sandwiches to be sure he was eating? Did she check in on him while he slept, and pull the covers over him so he wouldn’t get cold in the night? 

Tweek didn’t think any further than that, the medication winning out. But by a strange coincidence, at that exact same moment, Kenny McCormick’s mother was in fact pulling the covers over her son. 

Her newborn infant son. 

For something like the tenth time since Saturday. 

Carol McCormick winced as she moved, feeling an invisible knife stab between her legs. She would heal. By some horrible miracle she always healed.

“Lord knows I love you kid, but one of these days I am going to be the one to blow my own head off,” she whispered into baby Kenny’s face. “Then how’re you gonna come back, huh?”

He burbled back, happy and ignorant as only a baby can be. She envied him. 

She could use a bowl, Carol decided, thinking irritably of her husband and knowing already that he had undoubtedly smoked the last of their crystal meth while she lay in agony in their bedroom, giving birth to their child for, again, _like the tenth time since Saturday._

Carol spied the shoebox on Kenny’s floor. She knew exactly what it was and what it contained; she had seen it laying half-open plenty of times, often emitting a definite skunky-smell. She’d always pretended not to see it, since it was clear evidence that she was a Bad Mother. 

Now, she reached forwards and picked the shoebox up, and set it in her lap. Yes, she decided as she lifted the lid and feasted her eyes on the contents. Yes, this was deserved. She’d given birth to the little shit, quite a lot lately as a matter of fact, _and_ her good-for-nothing-husband had smoked the last of the crystal, and _dammit_ maybe this would teach Kenny not to go and keep stealing his father’s gun and-

Carol McCormick was crying. That wasn’t good, no, that was why she had wanted a bowl in the first place, Carol thought to herself as she plucked a small bag half-full of white shards from the shoebox, slipped that one into her pocket for the near future, and then rose from Kenny’s bed and set out down the hall, shoebox in hand, intent on finding the perfect hiding spot for her new stash.


	5. Mental Health Day

Tweek didn’t go to school on Tuesday. He told his parents he needed a ‘mental health day’, which Mrs. Tweak accepted without question. His dad cheerfully asked him if he’d like to work in the coffee shop instead, which earned a set of daggers from Mrs. Tweak; it must be said that Mr. Tweak was ever so slightly less understanding about Tweek’s anxiety than Mrs. Tweak was.

Tweek didn’t blame his dad. He knew on some level he was a disappointment to his father, and also knew that Mr. Tweak had made considerable efforts to understand his son. So Tweek figured he owed it to his dad to not focus on the moments when Tweek felt like his dad really didn’t think of Tweek’s mental health issues as ‘quite real’. His dad would frequently offer such helpful suggestions as “just don’t think about it” or “have you tried acting normally?” and Tweek’s personal favorite “keeping busy is good for anxiety; put on an apron and do a shift at the coffee shop for me, would you son?”

Today, Tweek was just grateful to not have to go to school, so when his mother started to insist that he needed to stay home and take it easy, he cut her off with “Yeah, that’d be great actually, thanks dad.” 

Tweak liked the coffee shop during the weekdays– it wasn’t too busy when kids were at school and most adults were at work. A few stray folk on their days off and a few of the Goth kids from school who had a tendency to wander off campus for coffee during lunchtime were the only people Tweek had to interact with all day, and he really didn’t mind the Goth kids. They regarded and spoke to Tweek with the exact same distant revulsion with which they regarded and spoke to everyone else, and Tweek found this suited him fine.

Just as the Goth kids were leaving to walk back to school for their afternoon classes, Kenny McCormick opened the door to the coffee shop. He strode to the bar and started banging the little bell on the counter, rather rudely actually. He was fidgeting a lot, too, and biting his lip repeatedly. That wasn’t surprising, since last Tweek had seen Kenny, he’d been rifling through his shoebox full of drugs, his face greasy, the skin under the eyes already turning dark. And that had been mid-bender. Kenny should be, by Tweek’s reckoning, on a full-scale comedown by now. But aside from seeming incredibly agitated, there were absolutely no indicators about Kenny that he’d just spent the last three days doing hard drugs in his bedroom. In fact, his eyes were bright and he looked rather refreshed, as if he’d just woken from a good night’s sleep.

“Hey, Kenny,” Tweek said tentatively, stepping behind the counter. 

“Tweek?” Kenny looked mildly surprised. “Thought you’d be at school.”

“Thought you’d be at home,” Tweek said seriously. Up close, he really couldn’t believe how well Kenny was looking, when by all accounts he should be comatose in bed, or at least looking and feeling shitty to a degree.

“Yeah, well, you know me,” Kenny said vaguely, not really answering Tweek’s not-really-a-question at all. “Listen, can I get a small cappuccino or whatever? A small is two dollars, right?” 

“It’s on the house,” Tweek said automatically. His dad wouldn’t notice, since Tweek always helped himself to coffees throughout the day which he definitely preferred to the thermos of espresso he took to school. Coffee was always better fresh.

“No, see, I need to spend this two dollars,” Kenny insisted, slapping a couple of bills on the table. “It’s payback,” he added bitterly, before stuffing it in the tip jar, where Tweek left it. 

“Okay? Thanks?” Tweek started to work on the cappuccino, making one for himself as well out of habit. 

“Damn, that’s good,” Kenny said genuinely a short while later, echoing Tweek’s thoughts as they sipped their coffee together at the too-high table and too-high chairs that Mr. Tweak had purchased to keep up with other trendy coffee shops that were doing the same.

“So, how is spending two dollars on coffee payback?” Tweek asked Kenny, who rolled his eyes and then scowled viciously in response. 

“My stupid, redneck, _asshole_ parents,” he answered bitterly. “Stole my shit. My mother, specifically.”

“What shit?” Tweek asked blankly, and Kenny gave him a look like he knew Tweek couldn’t be that dumb. “Oh-ohh,” Tweek said, comprehension dawning. “Your _shit_.” Tweek couldn’t quite figure out what his moral opinion on that was, so he asked instead “how do you know it was her? Your brother-”

“Only smokes weed, and gets better stuff than I have,” Kenny countered. As for Karen, Kenny doubted she dabbled in drugs yet, and besides, Karen would never steal from him. “My mother, on the other hand,” Kenny continued, “was high as a kite this morning. So was Dad, mind you, but he was out of it all night. Which leaves a small but opportune window of sobriety for mommy dearest,” Kenny concluded, his voice dripping with resentment. 

Tweek was, in all honesty, a little shocked. Not surprised really – he’d known Kenny’s family for years and hadn’t gotten the best vibe – but still, shocked. He couldn’t imagine the same scenario between his parents and himself; it felt like such a thing would only happen in a parallel world. Tweek sipped his coffee, willing his brain to come up with the right thing to say.

“That’s… I can’t believe that,” Tweek said in what he hoped was a commiserating tone. “So you stole two dollars? That’s your payback?” 

Kenny sighed. “My original plan was to take all the money in the house and buy new shit to replace the stuff she stole, and to have a way to spend the afternoon obviously. But, of course, two dollars was all the money in the house. So I figured I’d spend it on the next best thing,” he said, holding up the coffee with a wink. 

“Still, as far as payback goes, that’s pretty mild.” Poor as they were, Tweek doubted the McCormicks would notice two dollars going missing.

“In all fairness, she puts up with a lot from me,” Kenny said in that vague tone again. "So, until I can find where she hid my crap, this is as far as I go." He sighed and slapped his hand lightly on the table. “Fuck, you know what this coffee needs? A cigarette.”

“I can’t smoke around my dad,” Tweek said automatically, and Kenny snorted. 

“Can you take a break and come to the park to have one?” Kenny tried. 

“Then I’ll smell like smoke, and he’ll know,” Tweek countered, his mind already conjuring the scenario and the list of ways it could go wrong. 

“Just tell him I smoked, and that’s why you smell,” Kenny said cheerfully, already standing to ask Mr. Tweak if his son could go on break. 

Embarrassingly obviously pleased that his son was socializing, Mr. Tweak made two large takeaway cappuccinos and insisted Tweek take the afternoon off ‘to spend with your friend’ he finished in a voice that suggested Tweek was taking the afternoon off to cure cancer or solve world hunger or something equally worthy of his proud parental smile. 

“Told you all he needed was some good, honest work,” Mr. Tweak told his wife smugly as their son left the coffee shop with the McCormick boy. “Look at that, he’s talking with kids his own age again,”

“Mm,” Mrs. Tweak said coolly, her eyes narrowing at Kenny’s back. She wasn’t sure she approved of that boy, and wished her son had made friends with someone a bit more normal. 

Then she was reprimanded by her inner voice as it reminded her how often the mothers of other boys had probably thought the same thing about her own son.

*

“You have any cigarettes?” Kenny asked brightly as the door to the coffee shop closed.

“You asked me out for a cigarette when you don’t have any?” Tweek said in faint disbelief. “You want to hang out to bum cigarettes off me,” he accused.

“Yeah, I’m poor and I’m rude, so do you have one or not?” Kenny carried on brazenly. “If it makes you feel any better I only steal smokes from people I find tolerable enough that the positives of the cigarette aren’t outweighed by the negatives of their presence.” 

“Oh, well in that case, it’s an honour,” Tweek said rolling his eyes, but passing Kenny a smoke all the same because he really didn’t mind sharing. He lit Kenny’s for him and then his own, feeling that odd mix of relief and relaxation, combined with the somewhat unpleasant giddiness that involuntarily forced Tweek to think of Craig’s words from Saturday – _That’s bad for you, you know. Bad for anxiety, too_.

Tweek took a harder drag as though trying to use the smoke to smother the sudden flare of nerves in the pit of his belly. Kenny was watching him thoughtfully, keeping the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth like a lollipop instead of pinching it between two fingers, as did most people. 

“So, I told you why the two dollars; why aren’t you at school?” Kenny asked, ending his question by sucking on the cigarette and puffing out a billow of smoke. Tweek wondered how having the cigarette that close to his face all the time didn’t make Kenny’s eyes water. “Please don’t tell me you had a fight with your boyfriend over me,” he said it in a joking manner, but when Tweek said nothing and fidgeted with his coffee lid, Kenny groaned. “Are you serious?” he said irritably, taking a swig of his coffee and somehow still managing to keep the cigarette balanced between his lips. “What’s that asshole’s problem, anyway?”

“He’s not an asshole,” Tweek said, trying not to sound too defensive although the brief body spasm he gave betrayed his discomfort. “He doesn’t think I should be friends with you, though,”

“He said that?” The hurt in Kenny's tone made Tweek wish he hadn’t said anything, and he chastised himself for his habit of blurting things before thinking them through all the way. 

“He didn’t say that exactly,” Tweek corrected. “He doesn’t think we should hang out though.” 

Kenny snorted. “He’s probably right.”

“He said it’d hurt Butters’ feelings and I’ve hurt them enough already. And that it’d just give the idiots at school more to talk about instead of letting things settle.”

“He’s probably right,” Kenny said again. 

“I said you needed a friend,” Tweek broached carefully.

Kenny stared at him. “I have friends,” he said, but his voice shook a bit like he was considering the validity of that fact. 

Tweek thought about whether or not to bring the next subject up with Kenny for fear of touching a sore spot. “Didn’t you used to hang out with those guys, Stan and Kyle and Eric-”

“Cartman,” Kenny corrected, then huffed a sigh. “Yeah, I dunno, friendship groups are weird. You have these small, tight groups as a kid and then you get older and the lines kind of blur and the people who were your best friends are just a part of a bigger group of friends and by high school everyone is kind of hanging out with everyone except for a few people that… aren’t,” he finished, looking at Tweek guiltily, who shrugged in response. It wasn’t untrue, after all. “I guess maybe I’m one of the ones that aren’t now,” he said. He was quiet for a while after that. Then, “Huh,” he said simply. “Yeah, sure, okay.” Kenny sucked on his cigarette again, pulling the burn further down the tube and causing a chunk of ash to fall onto his orange parka. He rubbed it carelessly into the material alongside many other smudges. 

“You want to go to your place? Nobody’s there now, right?”


	6. Such a Nice Boy

Kenny hadn’t been to Tweek’s house since they were kids, but it was more or less as he remembered it. The entire place smelled like coffee, and Tweek’s room was still patched with occasional mess. There were papers all over the desk, and several empty coffee mugs next to the computer. 

Still, it was nicer than Kenny’s house.

“Not expecting company?” Kenny joked. Tweek blushed and ineffectively started trying to straighten up. “Relax, I was kidding. Jesus, you saw my room.” Kenny dropped himself carelessly onto Tweek’s unmade bed and grinned. 

“So, what do you want to do now?” 

Tweek shrugged, taking a seat in the swivel chair opposite the computer. “I have pretty good internet. We could play something online.” 

Kenny cocked his head and twisted his mouth, regarding Tweek curiously for a moment. “Yeah, I guess that could be fun,” he finally agreed. “I wish we had some weed though,” Kenny hinted, stretching himself out. 

“In my house? No way,” Tweek said.

“Dude, home is the best place to smoke weed,” Kenny said, propping himself on his elbow. “Hey what about some of that dexamphetamine you had on you the other night?”

“I feel like you just came off a bender and should maybe stay off for a while,” Tweek said carefully.

Kenny looked like he might argue for a moment, then seemed to sense that would be overplaying his hand. “Fair enough,” he said airily. “You got any more coffee?”

“That, I can do,” Tweek said. He’d actually just been thinking the same thing.

*

Kenny ended up staying for the rest of the day, and then for dinner, which Mrs. Tweak was polite but not particularly happy about. Mr. Tweak, on the other hand, was thrilled that his son seemed to be ‘turning out right after all’ and ‘making friends like a normal kid’ as he put it in delicate undertones to his wife while the boys set the table.

“The parents use drugs,” Mrs. Tweak hissed at her husband in response, staring at the McCormick boy and trying to ascertain whether or not the apple fell far from the tree. 

“Honey, don’t be silly. Those boys aren’t high on anything but life,” Mr Tweak said, gesturing to where the two were obediently setting the table, Tweek occasionally straightening whatever Kenny put down. 

Mrs. Tweak sighed. “I know, I know. I just worry. It’s been a while since he’s had a friend and I’m just hoping he’s making the right ones.”

*

Kenny couldn’t remember the last time his family had eaten at the dinner table. Nowadays they usually just took food to their bedrooms when they were hungry, and that’s if food was even in the house. Mrs. McCormick used to insist on eating at the table, would yell at the kids for being late or opening their eyes while Grace was being said. And then Kenny had started yelling back; _no actually Mom, I’m not coming to the table to say Grace because a plate of frozen waffles is not dinner, stop trying to pretend you’re not a shitty, crackhead excuse for a parent, and while you’re at it stop asking God for favors when the mere fact that I exist means that ship sailed for you a long time ago_.

It had been something along those lines.

Kenny’s dad had gone to the bar and hadn’t come home until the following weekend. Kenny and his mother had spent the rest of the night on their own, shut in their respective rooms with their respective stashes, blotting out the world. 

The frozen-waffle family dinners had trickled off and then stopped after that.

Kenny remembered this with a pinched brow as he shoveled deliciously creamy mashed potatoes and steamed veggies into his mouth, washing it all down with bottomless cups of Tweek Bros Coffee. 

The doorbell rang halfway through the meal, making all four people look up in surprise. 

“Expecting someone?” Kenny asked lightly and generally, but he looked at Tweek, who honestly couldn’t imagine who it could be. One of his dad’s suppliers, maybe. They sometimes showed up at odd hours.

“I’ll get it honey, you stay and enjoy your food, talk with the boys some more,” Mr. Tweak said cheerfully, standing and speed walking to the front door. 

Mrs. Tweak sipped her water, which she had opted for instead of coffee like everyone else – it had started to give her headaches lately – thinking she should make the typical small talk a parent makes with the friend of their child. _So Kenny, how are you finding school? Got any hobbies? And how are your parents?_ Instead, Mrs. Tweak found herself not wanting to risk receiving honest answers to any of those questions. She was rescued however, when her husband came striding back into the kitchen, followed by a teenager Mrs. Tweak recognized as one of Tweek’s classmates.

“It’s for you, son,” Mr. Tweak said cheerfully, as though he couldn’t believe the sudden flow of improvement on his son’s social life. 

“Hey,” Craig Tucker said, meaning to say it to Tweek but accidentally seeming to say it to Kenny McCormick due to the fact that he couldn’t seem to stop staring at him in disbelief. He caught himself, however, and awkwardly held up what appeared to be a stack of papers. “I have Tweek’s homework from today,” he said by way of explanation for his presence. He was still avoiding eye contact with Tweek, who was staring at Craig as though he were an oncoming tornado. “I have Kenny’s as well actually,” he added, then to Kenny, “I was gonna go by yours after. Didn’t know you’d be here,” he said a little offhandedly, flicking a glance at Tweek again without actually making eye contact.

“It’s Craig, isn’t it? Craig Tucker? Laura’s boy? Just look how much you’ve grown! I hardly recognized you!” Mrs. Tweak said quickly, her inability to speak to boys her son’s age suddenly dissipating. “Have a seat, won’t you?”

“Thank you, but no, I really should be going,” Craig said hurriedly, putting the stack of schoolwork on the dinner table. He finally looked directly at Tweek, who managed to look back. Craig’s expression was unreadable, but his voice was soft and genuine when he said, “I hope you’re feeling better tomorrow.” He even managed to nod at Kenny to grudgingly include him in that sentiment, although he was unable to keep all of the contempt out of his expression when he saw the taunting smirk Kenny was giving him in response. 

“See you,” Craig said, keeping his eyes on Tweek this time, who wanted to say something back or at least nod, but instead found his body unable to do anything except give a sudden involuntary spasm. 

“Bye Craig,” Kenny called sweetly, right before the sound of the front door closing signaled that Craig had shown himself out.

“Oh, he’s such a nice boy,” Mrs. Tweak knew it was rude, but she couldn’t keep the gush out of her tone, nor could she help the way her eyes darted to Kenny, wordlessly pointing out the contrast. If panic and hope weren’t silently warring inside Tweek at that moment, he might have noticed. Kenny definitely did.

*

“So, your Mom hates me,” Kenny said casually as soon as they entered Tweek’s room. They’d just gone up so Kenny could grab his orange parka, and now they were loitering a bit before Kenny went home. Tweek was trying not to be rude, but he was also sort of trying to hurry Kenny out of the house so he could have a bit of a think about whether the shock he’d received at dinner had been a good one or a bad one. Tweek supposed he should also do that homework at some point.

“What? No she doesn’t. Why would you think that?” Tweek said a little absently as Kenny stuffed his own homework carelessly into the folds of his parka, intent on dumping it into the first street bin he could find.

“All moms hate me, Number One. Number Two, she could barely look at _me_ , but _Craig_ …” Kenny huffed air through his teeth then put on a pitched voice. “ _Such a nice boy!_ Mothers never call me that,” Kenny added matter of factly. 

Tweek fidgeted uncomfortably. “I’m sure that’s not it. She just knows Craig’s mom is all.”

“She knows mine too. Another reason not to like me. Whatever, dude, just tell me if your parents ban me from coming here, because I don’t want them to chase me off your property with a gun.” The way Kenny said it made Tweek think that it was not a hyperbolic example. 

“I don’t think they will,” Tweek said thoughtfully. “Ban you, that is. Anyway my Dad likes you.” 

Kenny stared at Tweek for a long moment. “Yeah, well, if he knew I was basically the reason you’re not hanging out with everyone else at school again, especially _nice boys_ like Craig,” Kenny paused to huff derisively at that, “I don’t think he’d be so happy about it. Like I said, let me know.” 

Tweek and Kenny walked back downstairs so Kenny could leave and head for home, which was not something he was overly fond to be doing, especially when there wasn’t even his stash waiting there for him anymore. Maybe Kevin was feeling generous and would throw his little brother a free joint. And if he wasn’t, maybe Kenny would see what he could dig up if he snuck around Kevin’s room real quick.

“Hey, d’you want to skip school again tomorrow?” Kenny asked Tweek at the foot of the front doorsteps. “One more day, I just, I don’t want to go back yet man. I could use a day of real R&R with someone before dealing with that bullshit, you know?” 

“I don’t think my parents would be cool with me taking two days off in a row,” Tweek said slowly. It was a bit of a lie, but Tweek felt he’d missed enough school what with today and then cutting early the day before that. It was easy to fall behind in high school, and difficult to pull yourself back up once you had. And also, Tweek wanted to clear the air with Craig. 

“Come on, one more day,” Kenny pestered. “Just don’t tell your parents, the school will definitely think it’s another sick day since they called yesterday,” he added convincingly. 

“Maybe,” said Tweek noncommittally. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning though?” he added, since his house was actually rather close to Kenny’s and maybe walking to school together would help Kenny find his courage in facing the crowd. Getting back in a routine was important for any kind of mental recovery, Tweek knew that from experience, and right now he honestly thought the best way to be a friend to Kenny was to help get him back in the routine of going to school and doing the bare minimum required to pass his classes. 

“Okay, yeah man, I’ll be here tomorrow,” Kenny said, wandering down the street towards his own house, sparking one of the cigarettes Tweek had given him for the road.


	7. Getting Back to Nature

“C’mon, it’ll be fun, you said you would,” Kenny whined at Tweek the next morning. 

“I said maybe,” Tweek reminded him uncomfortably. He’d actually been rather set on going to school, had taken a morning Xanax to mellow out and a Ritalin to stay focused and he’d walked out that door ready to take on the day.

Tweek had expected some mild argument about going to school from Kenny. He hadn’t expected to be greeted by Kenny holding a thin burlap book bag that smelled strongly like it contained something other than books. Tweek wished Kenny hadn’t bought weed around to his house; he could smell it from the front door and his parents could pop out at any moment. 

“It’s not a lot, but it’s strong,” Kenny promised. His search of Kevin's room had indeed been fruitful, turning up a small bag of the quality shit that Kevin bought to smoke himself, rather than the cheap bud he bought in bulk to sell to high school kids and kept better hidden. “This stuff is way better than whatever you smoked on Saturday. And, I forgot, I still have half a bottle of Mystery Drink, so there’s that,” Kenny finished with a satisfied bounce.

“I thought you were taking a break from getting messed up,” Tweek reminded him. 

“I just need _one more day_ of real R &R with someone. Like, getting fucked up on my own was just depressing, and yesterday was great and all, but c’mon, I just need one day where I have someone to hang with instead of dealing with the asshats at school or sitting around thinking about all the bullshit I’ve done until I want to blow my own head off,” Kenny dropped the arm holding the book bag and sighed. “You know what, don’t worry about it, have fun at school.” He turned and started down the road. 

“Wait,” called Tweek, following after him.

*

When it wasn’t frozen enough to skate on, Starks Pond was generally deserted since it wasn’t near anything except the church and the forests surrounding it were said to contain wolves, among other things. Kenny walked into the dense thicket with apparently no fear that they might get lost and never come out.

“It’s fine, I know this one path,” Kenny insisted as they wandered, occasionally having to step over boulders and stumps that Tweek was desperately trying to take note of in an effort to remember the path they were coming down. Tweek didn’t particularly like going places if he didn’t know his way out. He thought about saying something to Kenny, but suddenly Kenny stopped in his tracks, causing Tweek to smack into the back of him.

“This is it,” Kenny announced, indicating the small space in which they stood. It was a clearing, with some enormous lightly snow-dusted logs marking the edges. There were impassible trees all around, except by where they had come, and the clearing might have fit five or so people sitting comfortably. There were signs that this was indeed a known location – a few scattered beer cans here and there, and, as Tweek looked around, a few cans in the branches of a few trees. At the edge, there was a tree stump with a divot in the middle that contained multiple cigarette butts, next to which sat a plastic picnic cooler.

“Kevin and his friends showed me this place,” Kenny said, opening the cooler and producing of all things a shabby plastic tarp, which he shook out and spread over the cold, wet ground. He sat on it and motioned for Tweek to join him. “They’d be the only ones to bother us here,” Kenny grinned and held up the bag. “Perfect spot, since we can’t smoke this at your house and all. C’mon, there’s even a pit where you can light a fire so we can keep warm.” 

At first, Tweek had his doubts about hanging out in a cold forest, but with the small tarp and the tiny fire pit, it was actually rather comfortable. Kenny was at work, cutting up the weed in a cereal bowl with a small pair of nail scissors because his actual grinder had been in the stolen shoebox. He also scattered some tobacco through it, smirking at the way Tweek squinted curiously.

Kenny had bought his Gatorade bong with him, cleaner than Tweek had last seen it but still coated in a faint murky brown film and still looking somewhat depressing. Kenny poured some water into the bottom of the chamber, then packed the conepiece half-full of some mixed green and brown flakes. Tweek watched, fascinated despite himself. Tweek had thought that Kenny was packing the bong for himself, and was startled when it was suddenly thrust at him.

“Put your finger on the hole there,” Kenny instructed, showing Tweek the punctured spot above the stem. “And when you see the smoke in the bottle, take your finger off and inhale. It’s easy. Go for it,” Kenny said, pushing the lighter into Tweek’s other hand. 

“I’m…” Tweek looked down at the device apprehensively. “I’m good, thanks,” he held the bong out for Kenny, who didn’t take it, but frowned. 

“Dude, what’s up? I know you’ve smoked before,” he said with raised eyebrows, making Tweek’s guts seize as he involuntarily called to memory That Night. 

“Yeah, that one time. And I didn’t smoke much, and it was just a joint and…” and it had been with Craig and Craig had made him feel safe.

“What, you don’t trust yourself to be vulnerable around me?” Kenny joked, fluttering his eyelashes, and Tweek laughed nervously but there was a little truth in it and Kenny clearly sensed it because he rolled his eyes and groused “For God’s sake, Tweek, I promise cross my heart I won’t molest you, now hurry up and smoke that, because I want one.”

Tweek wasn’t sure if he was feeling good or bad excitement, but Kenny was grinning and Tweek supposed that had really been the whole point of skipping school today. Tweek sparked the lighter and sealed his mouth against the bottle’s top, trying not to think about the grimy brown film on the inside. He sucked, holding the lighter over the conepiece, and watched the flame get pulled into the vacuum he was creating, setting the green plant alight. The water in the chamber bubbled and from those bubbles smoke burst into the confined airspace of the bong chamber. 

“Take your finger off and inhale now,” Kenny said suddenly, and Tweek did, and the next moment he was attempting to cough out what felt like a trillion tiny knives stabbing the insides of his lungs and throat. Kenny was laughing hysterically. 

“Nice one,” he said cheerfully, clapping Tweek on the back and packing a bong for himself.

*

Tweek’s iphone battery was about to die. He was lying on the forest floor staring up at the stretching pine trees and blue sky, listening to opera music that Kenny had put on because Tweek could barely lift his arms yet alone operate his own phone.

They hadn’t spoken for a long time because Tweek was honestly too out of it to hold a conversation. He’d been okay for the first hour or so, even as the weed started to kick in. Tweek had even tried a few sips of the McCormick Mystery Drink at Kenny’s insistence. Tweek wasn’t exactly sure what was in the drink, but it certainly made everything more intense, and shortly after imbibing, Tweek had lost all ability to do anything expect lie still and observe the sky. Kenny was fine with that, because he was just enjoying the music and the company for now.

Then, the music on the phone kept pausing to alert the boys to ‘20% Battery Remaining’. Then ’10 % Battery Remaining’. Finally, it shut itself down and Tweek lifted his head from the tarpaulin with what felt like the same effort required to lift a sofa. He’d been lying there so long leaves had actually dropped from the trees and settled onto him, and they fell away as Tweek sat up, groaning.

Bongs and joints were not the same, Tweek decided. Either that, or the weed Kenny had brought was much stronger, or maybe it was the Mystery Drink, or maybe it was combining weed with Xanax and Ritalin. Or maybe it was just entering into the situation with different states of mind. Maybe some combination of everything. 

The point was, sharing a joint with Craig after a couple of drinks had affected Tweek for certain, but not to this degree. He wasn’t feeling particularly anxious, that was a plus, but while this sensation was definitely fun or at least pleasant on some level, Tweek personally was not overly fond of the fact that he was having actual, genuine trouble with basic moving and thinking. 

Kenny, on the other hand, was of the opinion that everything was not strong enough. He had at some point found the Xanax and Ritalin Tweek kept in his schoolbag and was now chewing a few pills thoughtfully while packing another bong. No matter, Tweek thought easily. He had plenty more at home and Kenny seemed happy to have something a bit stronger to go with his weed. It wasn’t like it was meth, after all. 

“What time is it?” Tweek asked blearily, no longer having a phone to check. Kenny exhaled his hit with a thoughtful expression. 

“Maybe lunchtime. I’m getting hungry,” Kenny said. He packed another cone for Tweek, who was going to refuse on the grounds that he’d only just regained the ability to move, but found himself sinking another one almost as if his body just decided to without really consulting his brain. 

“Want to get something to eat?” Kenny’s voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far away. Kenny was standing up already, stamping out the embers of their tiny fire. Tweek shook his head to snap himself out of it. He was no stranger to acting lucid while battling the effects of drugs; he could do this.

“Sure okay. My parents are at work again, we can get something at mine?” Tweek stood, wobbling uncertainly, but more or less okay. He and Kenny stumbled through the forest, Tweek wondering how on Earth Kenny was able to navigate his way back. Nothing on the way out looked familiar to him at all.

*

Along the way back, Tweek started to worry through his fog that maybe the school had called his parents at work and they would be waiting for him when he and Kenny reached his house. He was wrong, as Kenny’s prediction that the school staff and Tweek’s parents would assume Tweek had needed another ‘mental health day’ had been the case.

There was, however, an angry presence waiting for them at Tweek’s house, and that angry presence was Craig Tucker. 

“Where have you two been all day?” Craig demanded suddenly, eyes squinting as he took in Kenny and Tweek’s ruffled state. They were both scruffy boys generally, but today their faces had black soot smudges, they reeked of weed, and Tweek’s statically spikey hair contained several leaves and pine needles, as though he’d been lying on the ground. Kenny saw the way Craig’s eyes narrowed at Tweek’s hair, and he made a show of plucking the leaves away for Tweek, smirking at Craig all the while. 

“Chill out, Craig. We weren’t robbing any liquor stores. We’ve just been at Kevin’s hangout spot,” Kenny said, draping an arm around Tweek’s shoulders. Craig’s hands curled into fists. 

“Really? I mean, _really?”_ Craig asked disgustedly at Kenny, who raised his eyebrows and took a swig from his bottle of Mystery Drink. “You ditched school to smoke weed and drink in the forest? Grow up, Kenny.”

“And what are you doing?” Kenny challenged.

“I had a free period,” Craig responded. He turned to Tweek. “Tweek, seriously, this is exactly why I didn’t want you hanging out with him,” he said looking at Kenny contemptuously. 

“Funny, I thought it had something to do with not wanting to be unpopular or some pathetic high school bullshit like that,” Kenny said bitterly, sipping from his bottle. 

Craig did look at Tweek a bit angrily then, and Tweek shrank back. He knew it had been out of line to repeat that. “Yeah, well, I’m not wrong about that either,” Craig said at Kenny again. “You’re doing your usual bullshit and you’re taking it out on Tweek.” 

Kenny laughed derisively. _“Tweek_ has been having _lovely_ time, as have I, at least until you showed up out of nowhere and started bringing us down.”

“Tweek?” Craig said, keeping the anger out of his voice this time. 

“We were just taking a day off,” Tweek said, wishing his brain was working properly so he could think of something better to say. 

“Dude, come on, you can’t go missing entire days of school and stuff just because he’s guilting you into it. Believe me, he’s pulled all this same shit before, and he loves pulling people down with him.”

“Jesus, Craig, take some personal responsibility, I never _guilted_ you into anything,” Kenny said with a bite of warning, and Craig’s jaw visibly clenched. 

“Could you two stop it?” Tweek burst out, feeling a shiver going up his body like it wanted to spasm out some of the nervous energy but couldn’t. “I don’t…” He didn’t like Kenny’s ‘super strong’ weed or his Mystery Drink and right now he felt hyperaware that he was on his street in the middle of the afternoon and he was incredibly high and also his parents could come home at any moment. He’d just wanted to grab a couple of sandwiches. “I can’t…”

“Tweek,” Craig said suddenly, pushing Kenny's arm away and putting his hands on Tweek’s shoulders. “Tweek, are you okay?” he turned angrily to Kenny. “What did you give him? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“You’re _such_ a hypocrite,” Kenny said rolling his eyes. “Pretty sure you were giving him weed on Saturday, and ditching school with him on Monday. He’s been fine up until now, you’re the one freaking him out, not me.”

Craig’s face was livid. “I gave him a _few_ hits off a joint, and I didn’t take him out into the middle of nowhere to do it! And we cut _one class_ because it was his first day of school dealing with the mess _you made-”_

“Oh how _convenient,_ as always the moral line falls exactly where _you_ think it should,” Kenny said disgustedly. “Tweek, what’s up, you sketching out on us or what?” he said impatiently, snapping his fingers in Tweek’s ear. Craig looked like he might have wanted to throttle Kenny, but he kept his hands on Tweek’s shoulders and tried to nonverbally coax him into making eye contact. It didn’t work. Either Tweek was having some kind of bad reaction to whatever drugs he’d taken or he was having a panic attack or both. 

“Kenny, go home,” Craig said, not liking the way Tweek’s reddened eyes were closing and opening slowly and repeatedly. Tweek wanted to tell Craig not to worry, he was fine, he was just really stoned, but he found himself physically unable to do so, and not quite believing it either. 

_“You_ go home,” Kenny said angrily, pushing Craig’s hands away from Tweek’s shoulders. “I was invited, you weren’t, he’s been fine with me, you’re freaking him out. If anyone should leave it’s _you,”_

Craig fully intended to punch Kenny McCormick, but suddenly a shaky voice called out, “What’s going on over there?” 

One of Tweek’s elderly neighbours was walking his dog. He recognized the spikey haired Tweak boy, and had seen the boy in the orange parka leaving with Tweek this morning, but his old eyes glared at the unfamiliar figure in the blue jacket, one fist pulled back as though he were about to hit one of the shorter blonde boys in the face. 

“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” The man shouted in wavering tones, already fumbling for his phone. 

Craig dropped his hands immediately. “No, it’s fine, we know each other, just arguing,” he called back, looking to Kenny warningly. Kenny, no doubt, was holding enough illegal stuff on his person to want to avoid a police altercation as much as Craig did.

“Yes, it’s fine, just a disagreement that got out of hand,” Kenny shouted with a smile. “We were just leaving,” and with that, Kenny grabbed a hold of Tweek’s wrist with one hand and plunged the other one into Tweek’s jeans pocket. He grinned at both the keys he found there and the furious look on Craig’s face. 

Craig forced a smile under the suspicious eye of the tottering old man, who had walked into his own home opposite and was making a show of watching through the window. “If anything happens to him, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Do whatever you want, Craig,” Kenny said boredly, hauling Tweek across the threshold of his front door.

*

Tweek’s brain felt like it was melting.

“Tweek, snap out of it, come upstairs,” Kenny was saying crossly. His wrist hurt, Tweek noticed dumbly. Kenny was pulling at it. 

“Sorry,” Tweek was pretty sure he managed to say aloud, moving himself forwards. Some distant part of his mind indignantly pointed out that he wasn’t the one who should be saying sorry right now. Tweek felt atrocious. His emotions felt somehow amplified and deadened at the same time. His heart was beating incredibly fast but he felt like he could barely stay awake. 

“Craig just freaked you out,” Kenny said reassuringly, pushing Tweek into his room and closing the door behind them.

“No, I feel really awful,” Tweek said honestly. He didn’t know when this had started to feel so bad. 

“I need to change my clothes,” Tweek mumbled, feeling the ground tilt. “I smell like smoke.” 

“Fine, fine, where’s your nevermind found it,” Kenny was saying in a whirlwind. “It’s cool Tweek, your parents don’t get home for ages, we can chill out here and you can have a sleep. Here, put these on,” Kenny shoved a handful of clothes at Tweek and helped him get changed when he realized Tweek was having difficulty.

“Just lay down for a while,” Kenny said, manhandling Tweek to his bed and helping him align himself on the mattress before kneeling on the edge so he could look out the window. “God damn it, he’s still waiting out there.”

Tweek fell asleep.


	8. Before Class

When Tweek woke up, he still felt groggy and a little stoned. He staggered to the kitchen, brain not ready to think of anything besides the sandwich he’d never actually gotten to eat earlier.

“Oh, you’re awake.” Tweek looked up sharply at his mother’s voice. Tweek wondered how long he’d been out for, and whether his mother sensed something amiss about the day he’d had from looking at him. 

“I came home a little early. That Tucker boy was hanging around,” Mrs. Tweak said heedless of the way this inflamed new adrenaline in her son. “I think he wanted to visit, but you were asleep, so I sent him on home.”

Tweek felt his insides convulse with humiliation as he remembered how Craig had seen him, completely sloppy after a day of hanging out in the woods smoking weed and drinking god knows what like a damn hobo. He twitched heavily and decided he really needed a coffee with his sandwich.

“Did he leave with Kenny?” Tweek asked, scooping out a heaping cup of Tweek Bros and packing it ready for the small espresso machine they kept at home.

Mrs. Tweek narrowed her eyes at the mention of the McCormick boy, but relaxed as she happily responded, “No, I haven’t seen your friend Kenny at all today, honey.”

Tweek looked up at the kitchen wall, squinting curiously. “Oh. That’s weird.” 

“Why? Were you expecting him?”

Tweek looked down quickly and resumed making coffee at twice the previous speed. “No, not really,” he mumbled, willing himself not to twitch or spasm. He focused instead on the comforting whirr of the espresso machine. Tweek’s brain was already pulsing with expectant dopamine as the first aromatic brown trickle hit the bottom of Tweek’s extra-large mug. 

In truth, he was a little stung that Kenny hadn’t been there, had apparently slipped off and left Tweek unconscious and alone. 

“I’m gonna take this to my room and do some homework,” Tweek said, and he found he was being honest. He wanted to get _some_ schoolwork done today, and also Tweek wanted to think of literally anything but his own life.

But for study, he would need Ritalin, Tweek decided as he set his sandwich and coffee in place by his computer. A part of his brain throbbed in feeble protest of its abuse over the last day, but Tweek calmed it down with the promise of a codeine-based painkiller to accompany his study-aid. He couldn’t study without Ritalin, besides, he still felt a bit groggy and needed to wake up, Tweek told himself as he walked to his bathroom. He froze in the doorway, eyes round with surprise when he saw the cabinet above the sink was already ajar.

That was odd. Tweek always closed the cabinet over the sink. He had to, to use the mirror, and he always looked at himself in the mirror before he left the bathroom. It was a mild compulsion. He had a few of those. 

Tweek opened the cabinet all the way, dancing his fingers along the white lids of the bottles, searching for the Ritalin. His brows pinched together as he turned up wrong bottle after wrong bottle. Everything was all over the place, he noted irritably. 

Finally, Tweek found the Ritalin, in a completely different spot to where it had been. The contents rattled inside as Tweek upended a few into his hand, but he frowned at the hollowness of the sound. There should be more in there, he thought immediately. Tweek looked at these bottles every day, he knew their contents like the back of his hand, when he looked closely at the other orange cylinders, and gave them an experimental shake, he noticed they all seemed slightly emptier than they should. Tweek examined them one by one, wondering if he was going mad. He’d never lost track of so much medication at once. 

Then the obvious truth smacked Tweek upside the head. 

Oh god. 

Kenny. 

Tweek was an idiot. Kenny wasn’t his friend. Kenny didn’t want a friend. He wanted a shiny new toy to distract himself with so he didn’t have to deal with his problems. He wanted someone with a bathroom cabinet full of prescription medication to let him into their house. He wanted to do whatever he felt like without thought to how it affected people around him.

Craig had been right all along.

*

Tweek went to school early the next day in an effort to avoid seeing Kenny outside his house. He hoped Kenny wouldn’t be at school, would still be enjoying the various pills he’d stolen from Tweek while locked up in his room, but to Tweek’s great annoyance, a streak of orange in Tweek’s peripheral vision finally caught up with him and grabbed Tweek by the arm.

“Hey man, you weren’t at home when I got there,” Kenny said grinning. 

Tweek looked at Kenny like he’d turned inside out. “What’s wrong with you?” he said in disbelief. 

“Whoa, what’s your problem?” Kenny asked, his voice dropping several notches. 

“Do you think I’m stupid, is that it?” Tweek said in an undertone. “Did you actually think ‘oh that Tweek is such a dumb spaz, he won’t even notice if I blatantly steal several dozen _pills_ from him-’”

“Okay, we need private time,” Kenny snapped, dragging Tweek into the nearby boys bathroom. Once inside, Kenny shrugged.

“So, you need to yell at me. Fine, go ahead,” Kenny drawled, “Hey, did you bring cigarettes to school though, because if this is going to take a while…” 

“You were… I tried to be your friend!” Tweek said furiously.

“Hey, we’re still friends,” Kenny said airily as though he didn’t really care if the opposite were true. “You’re the one who wants to fight, not me.”

“I can’t believe you talked me into taking drugs with you and then just _left me…_ ”

Kenny scoffed. “Please, it wasn’t heroin. You’re fine.”

Kenny McCormick in an argument was infuriating. “You stole from me,” Tweek said coldly.

Kenny rubbed his eyes, starting to sense that the possibility of a cigarette before class was slowly fading. “You’re acting like you’re the first person on earth to have their medicine cabinet raided by a friend. I didn’t take much, I left most of it. Hey, maybe you should hide your shit better.”

“You’re putting this on me?” Tweek said in disbelief. 

“Well, I mean, you invite a user who’s just lost their stash into a house full of drugs, what did you think would happen?” Kenny said, grinning as though the whole thing was rather funny. His grin fell with an eye roll. “Come on, look, my brother can hook you up with some gr-”

Tweek growled with frustration, hating his own body as it twitched, not from nervousness as was usually the case, but as a result of the anger he was feeling. 

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t go to the cops,” Tweek said lowly. He had no intention of actually doing so, but he was just so pissed off.

Kenny laughed, actually laughed. “Come on, Tweek, we don’t need to go there, do we?”

Tweek felt himself get angry now, really angry. “I’ll do it,” he threatened. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Kenny looked at him like he was mad. “Because, if you went to the cops about me, I’d go to the cops about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And what,” Tweek asked through gritted teeth, “could they possibly charge me with?”

“Distribution of drugs,” Kenny said with satisfaction. 

“You stole them,” 

“I stole those ones. What about the other drugs?”

Tweek huffed out an empty laugh and shook his head. “Man, nobody is going to care about Token’s party and anyway you don’t have proof-”

“Not _those drugs_ ,” Kenny wasn’t smiling now, actually looked rather annoyed. “The coffee.”

Tweek squinted and shook his head. “What in god’s name are you talking about?” 

Kenny threw his head back as though his exasperated disbelief had hit him like a slap. “Come _on_ , Tweek, the something extra in the special blend? Come on, it’s… come _on_. Your suppliers used to _rent space_ from my parents. Hey, no judgment, you know they say many legal additives are more addictive and harmful than small amounts of meth, although if I’m honest at the rate you drink it-”

“Shut up,” Tweek said suddenly and quickly. He needed the world to pause for a moment. Things were happening too fast and his brain was starting to skip, trying to figure out if Kenny was lying to him or if…

Of course Kenny was lying. And what an obscene thing to lie about. 

“Fuck you, Kenny,” Tweek spat, turning and opening the bathroom door, leaving Kenny standing with a stricken look on his face, like he’d just done something incredibly bad without really meaning to. The door didn’t have time to close before Kenny was slamming into it in his haste to follow Tweek. A few students stopped and turned, prodding each other into doing the same so that they could enjoy this impromptu performance of High School Social Drama. 

“Tweek. Tweek, hold on, I fucked up, I didn’t mean that, I still want to be friends-”

Tweek snapped. He seized a hold of Kenny’s stupid orange parka and slammed him into a locker, his adrenaline spurring his wiry muscles into lifting Kenny clear off the ground. The students that had been semi-pretending not to be watching were now staring openly, some even withdrawing their phones, hoping to snap something interesting for Facebook. 

“Stay away from me, you psycho!” Tweek shouted, and released Kenny as suddenly as he had grabbed him, and with a kind of force that sent Kenny sprawling to the ground. Tweek stomped down the hall, one eye twitching so hard he couldn’t see through it. He could hear people whispering and muttering in his wake, making Tweek feel like he was being chased by a hive of malicious bees. Tweek kept walking until he found a room with an open door and the lights out, in which he finally stopped and bent over, holding his knees and counting to ten, willing some of the fury and panic to dispel. 

The bell would go soon, and he would have to get to class, but Tweek had a good few minutes at least. He’d been planning to get to class early and talk to the teacher about catching up on the work he’d missed. Instead, Tweek lit a cigarette and cracked open a window. It didn’t matter. Half the school didn’t have functioning smoke alarms, and right now getting caught smoking on campus seemed like the least of his worries.

Of course it’s a lie. It’s got to be a lie, Tweek thought, watching the smoke leave his mouth and get swept away into the outside air. Kenny has to be lying. Because if Kenny wasn’t lying, that meant something bigger and darker than Tweek had ever dealt with. It meant that the soft, safe parts of his world were anything but. 

Tweek’s anxiety flared and without thinking he reached into his bag for his thermos, releasing it a second later as though it had bitten him.

The thermos stared up at Tweek from his open schoolbag, and Tweek eyed it warily, then shook his head and seized it with determination. Of course Kenny would try to make Tweek paranoid, would deflect from his own wrongdoing by making up some nasty story, but Tweek wouldn’t let such a horrible, childish lie from Kenny ruin another entire day of school. He would calm down, have his cigarette and some coffee and then go to class and focus on his work. He would ignore Kenny and all the morons who found this petty high school bullshit so interesting. 

Tweek unscrewed the lid of his thermos and took a hearty swig of undiluted espresso, the strong, tarry taste bringing instant relief. It was still relatively fresh from that morning, and as Tweek swished it around his mouth, searching for any taste that didn’t belong, he found himself immediately comforted by the familiar flavor that reminded him of his home, and the café, and his parents. 

He wasn’t going to let this get to him, he wasn’t- 

“What did he do?” a voice spoke coldly from behind Tweek. Tweek straightened up and turned around. Craig stood in the doorway. He looked around quickly, then took another few steps forwards, shutting the door behind him. 

“What. Did. He. Do.” Each word practically vibrated with contained rage and Craig’s eyes looked dangerously alight.

Tweek looked down and shook his head, not really wanting to look Craig in the eye right now. He’d told Tweek right from the start that his best move was to steer clear of the bullshit that was Tornado Kenny. And Tweek had taken Craig’s friendship and his advice and put it in the backseat while Kenny called shotgun. And a life that four nights ago seemed like it might be about to start going right now felt more wrong than it ever had before. 

“He stole my medication,” Tweek said, laughing at how small the act sounded when he said it aloud. 

Craig’s lips became a thin line. “That prick,” he said, putting emphasis behind the mild curse, but it sounded forced and he looked almost cautiously relieved. 

“He left me unconscious,” Tweek added bitterly, and Craig did look genuinely angry then. “Wasn’t there when my mom got home. She told me when I woke up. Probably left out the back as soon as he found where I keep my meds.” Tweek nearly added Kenny's accusations about drug-laced coffee to the list but found himself swallowing that particular part of the story. It wasn't worth mentioning after all. Just a small detail.

“I’m going to kick the shit out of him,” Craig swore. “I never would have just stood outside if I’d known you were alone in there.” Craig’s mouth pinched with fury and he shook his head in disgust. “I just thought he was inside that whole time, staying for dinner or something,” Craig couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his tone, and winced as Tweek recoiled slightly. 

“I’m sorry,” Tweek said, and Craig glared at the ceiling in frustration.

“Stop saying that,” he said.

“No, I am,” Tweek said, and he meant it. “Bad stuff might have happened, and some of it was bad luck and Kenny’s wrong for a lot of it, but it’s not like I’m not at fault here either.” 

Craig looked at Tweek curiously. 

“You were nice to me. You were nice about my anxiety, and then you tried to give me advice about Kenny and Butters and everyone else, and then you were nice even after I called you an asshole-”

Craig laughed, he couldn’t help it, and Tweek smiled because it was nice to have one small thing to smile at when you were bogged down in awful. His smile fell as he remembered what he was talking about; “and then I do what I always do, I make the wrong choices. I’m the one who got involved with Kenny and his drama even though you told me not to, I’m the one who did a bunch of drugs in the middle of nowhere instead of going to school. And yeah, I’m pissed at Kenny for leaving me, but I'm also pissed at me because I'm the one that got myself messed up like that.”

Craig raised his eyebrows. He was impressed. A lot of people liked to play the victim when given an opportunity, and with his anxiety and the general social exclusion, Tweek had more opportunity than most to play the role of unfortunate target. But he was owning his mistakes in the matter, despite the fact that he also had cause to be angry at being wronged. 

“You’re not the only person who makes bad choices, Tweek,” Craig said quietly.

Tweek laughed without humour. “I do it pretty consistently,” he said with dull self-assuredness. “If you don’t believe me, ask my friends.”

“There’s a difference between being socially awkward and being pushed into doing shit you regret by a degenerate sociopath,” Craig said with poison, looking away from Tweek as he said that last part.

Tweek cocked his head at Craig. “I’m mad at Kenny, but he never held a gun to my head.”

Craig kept glaring at the wall opposite him with that same quiet rage. “Yeah, but I know what he’s like.”

They stood for a moment in silence before the bell rang. 

“We should go to class,” Craig said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Tweek said, following him to the door.


	9. Exit, Pursued by a Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey, update :D

The next week was almost pleasant. Tweek attended all of his classes and made good on his self-promise to throw himself into schoolwork. He successfully avoided Kenny, even in the classes they had together; Craig would often plant himself as a physical sight barrier between the two, and if Craig wasn’t in that class, Tweek would sit himself somewhere in the room where he didn’t have to see the unrelenting flare of orange. Most importantly (or at least, it felt like the most important thing to them) Tweek and Craig were friends again. 

Granted, the occasional cluster of students would find themselves bored enough to start snickering and pointing if Tweek strode by Kenny, avoiding eye contact with steely determination, but Craig was glad to see that Tweek genuinely didn’t seem to mind as much anymore. When someone lobbed a comment or spitball Tweek’s way, he would still give a twitch or an eye flutter, but he would also roll his eyes with an ‘are you fucking kidding me? Grow up’ expression.

The gladness morphed to concern, however, as Craig started to notice that Tweek’s apathy wasn’t limited to the opinions of their classmates. It wasn’t an easy thing to notice right away, especially since Tweek seemed so much better than he had the week after The Party. He wasn’t skipping school to get high with Kenny McCormick, anyway, Craig thought with a spike of anger. But despite this improvement, Craig sensed a dark cloud hanging over Tweek’s head, one that he was pretty sure hadn’t been there even before The Party, and Craig had a weird feeling that the comments of their classmates were now being regarded by Tweek as an irritating distraction from the real cause of his upset.

At first, Craig thought he might just be imagining things; maybe he hadn’t noticed how depressed Tweek had been before, although if truth be told he’d observed Tweek once or twice (or a few times) before he’d worked up the nerve to talk to him at Token’s, and although he’d had his anxieties, he hadn’t been particularly moody then, which he was now. He was friendly enough with Craig, even seemed to enjoy his company at lunchtime and when they hung out at each other’s houses after school, but even when they were alone, Tweek seemed oddly distant, and almost angry. Craig thought he was inwardly licking his wounds, would slowly get better as the morons at school started to get bored with teasing someone who was no longer reacting. But after a few days, when most of the teasing and nearly all of the spitballs had finally stopped, Craig started to get the feeling that Tweek was bothered by something else. Craig knew he didn’t know Tweek well enough again to know for certain something was off. 

But something was off. 

Craig suspected it had to do with Kenny, and these thoughts would be accompanied by an awful, nauseating flare in the pit of his stomach. Considering he already knew that Kenny had pressured Tweek into getting high, stolen from him, and then left him unconscious, there wasn’t a lot of room to imagine what else might be causing Tweek’s mood except the one thought that made Craig’s guts seize with that sick anger.

Craig had casually asked Tweek if anything was up a couple of times, but Tweek had just shrugged and said he was taking less meds since Kenny had depleted his stash and that it was throwing him off. Craig wanted to believe this, but he also believed that however much Kenny had taken, Tweek had enough backup medication stashed to take down a small herd of elephants, and although he was surreptitious about it, Craig did notice that Tweek popped small shapes of varying colors into his mouth throughout the days, rather more often than Craig had previously thought. In any case, Tweek definitely wasn’t taking less meds.

Craig finally broached the subject in earnest over the weekend, while they were hanging out in Tweek’s room sharing notes and making a decent start on their most recent assignment. Tweek was sprawled stomach-down on his bed, facing the end Craig was leaning against from his cross-legged positing on the floor. Tweek was making a solid effort to concentrate, but whenever Craig looked up from his own work, he noticed that although Tweek was looking at his paper in his hand, his eyes were staring a hundred yards away. Craig waved his hand in front of Tweek’s notes, snapping the smaller boy out of his reverie. 

“Dude, are you okay?” Craig hadn’t meant it to be so blunt or general, but he couldn’t very well ask what he specifically wanted to ask, and at the same time sort of didn’t want to know the answer to. _What’s wrong? What else did Kenny do? What happened with you guys? I know you’re not telling me everything_. Which was hardly fair, Craig reminded himself with an internal gut wrench. It wasn’t like he had told Tweek everything either. And it wasn’t like either one of them was entitled to that information about the other, and Craig hated it.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m good,” Tweek answered absently, smiling halfheartedly which just made him look even more depressed. “Sorry, just trying to figure out this _hamartia_ crap.” 

_Aren’t we all?_ Craig thought to himself. “It’s fine, it’s just, you’ve seemed a bit down lately.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been better,” Tweek tried to be offhand and joking about it, but the honesty of the statement hung crisp in the air. Tweek shook his head at himself; he didn’t want Craig thinking of him as some downer and stop hanging out with him again. “Sorry, this Shakespeare stuff is super depressing, you know?”

“This is a comedy,” Craig pointed out, unable to help himself, but pleased when Tweek let out a small but genuine laugh, one that had absolutely nothing to do with the contents of their battered school-issue copies of _A Winter’s Tale_ , which as far as comedies go wasn’t very funny, in Tweek’s opinion. Maybe it was funnier on the stage. Or maybe Shakespeare wasn’t that funny, but everyone was too scared of looking dumb to say that. Or maybe Tweek just wasn’t smart enough to get the jokes. He hadn’t actually been thinking of the play at all, but it didn’t make his lack of understanding any less true.

“I don’t get this. I mean, I get what happens, I read the book, but I don’t understand what they want me to talk about.” Tweek frowned and twitched slightly, betraying the real irritation he felt at the assignment despite his lighthearted tone. 

Craig pushed himself up to join Tweek on the end of the bed. “Okay, so the _hamartia_ basically means a character flaw that leads to a tragic downfall,” he explained, pointing to his own English notebook, which was considerably more marked with notes than Tweek’s.

“I thought you said this was a comedy,” Tweek said dubiously. 

“It’s a tragicomedy,” Craig explained. “It’s supposed to be funny and sad at the same time.”

“I just think it’s sad,” said Tweek a little quietly. “Everything is terrible for three acts, and then it’s like, bam, everything wraps up magically and too neatly to be real, which just makes everything that happened earlier even sadder. It’s like the point of the story is that nothing could actually get better, at least not realistically.”

“That’s… an interesting way to look at it,” Craig said, feeling his chest ache a little. He found himself fighting off a sudden urge to lean forwards and give Tweek a hug. “I don’t think they want you to say that though.”

Tweek made a frustrated sound. He hated that high school had this tendency to ask you what you thought of stories when what they really wanted to hear was what they had told you to think. “Okay, so they want me to talk about a tragic flaw that causes a downfall.”

“Right. Any idea what that could be?” Craig prompted. 

Tweek thought for a moment. “Everything went wrong because of jealousy,” he said in that same quiet voice. 

Craig nodded thoughtfully. “Right.”

“Because Leontes thought his friend and the person he loved were having an affair, and he acted like a total dick about it.”

Craig swallowed. “Yeah, pretty much,” he said, feeling a bit dry in the mouth.

“Well, he was wrong. And he’s an idiot,” Tweek summarized and it was Craig’s turn to laugh.

“Jealousy makes you crazy,” Craig explained, feeling again that uncomfortable twinge in his gut. He was smiling though, and so was Tweek, and for a moment the dark cloud seemed to have been chased away.

Just then, the door knocked. It was Tweek’s mother, holding a tray laden with two brimming cups of coffee. 

“Study break,” she announced cheerfully, practically beaming at Craig, who she was pleased had been hanging around her son in place of that McCormick boy. Tweek silently took his coffee in both skinny hands, so large was the round, 90’s café style coffee mug that he might have dropped it otherwise. He eyed the second mug as his mother lifted it to pass to Craig, and for a moment looked like he was about to say something, but Craig beat him to it without meaning to. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, I just really don’t like coffee,” Craig admitted, feeling a bit guilty since she had already made it, but figuring it best to be honest upfront. He didn’t want to end up forcing himself to drink the bitter fluid every time he visited Tweek, having faked a liking the first time. 

“Oh, I’m sorry dear, I didn’t know. How about a nice hot chocolate?” Craig felt his ears burn – she might as well have offered him a set of training wheels – but he nodded politely and replied, “That’d be great Mrs. Tweak, thank you.”

“Tweek, do you want the second one? I’m still off the stuff, been giving me headaches,” she explained to Craig, already setting the second coffee mug on Tweek’s nightstand, certain from habit that her son would gladly accept a second coffee and it would save her another trip up the stairs. “Oh, and dear, your other friend stopped by to ask if you’d like to go for a walk by the pond… I told him you two were studying,” she added a little hesitantly, unsure if chasing away the McCormick boy had in fact been the right thing to do.

Tweek nodded. “Yeah, thanks Mom,” he said, not looking up from the swirling pool of brown inside his mug. Craig noticed that with Tweek’s mother’s arrival, the dark cloud had crept back into the room and was hovering squarely over Tweek’s head once more.

And like the idiot king in the play they were studying, Craig immediately jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion.

*

“I ought to kick your ass.”

Kenny turned around and blew a raspberry at the forbidding figure of Craig Tucker standing in the lit doorway of the school bathroom. The room was smoky and reeked of tobacco, as did Kenny. He was just having a quick smoke before detention, something he wouldn’t normally bother with, but the High School Principal and Vice Principal had finally threatened Kenny with expulsion for missing so many classes, and for failing so many assignments (or just plain not doing them). They’d wanted to expel him on the spot for smoking, drinking, and goodness knows what else on school grounds, but the truth was (as Kenny had correctly determined with a definite air of smugness) they hadn’t any evidence; this was largely because the regular teachers simply weren’t paid enough to be assed filing a report when they spotted a student smoking or swallowing a pill or drinking from a suspicious container – it just wasn’t worth the extra paperwork. 

They had, however, promised Kenny that he _would_ be expelled if he didn’t attend all his classes, complete all missed and remaining assignments, and show up for the detentions he had been allotted. Kenny wouldn’t have bothered with it, except his dad had made it clear to Kenny on many occasions that he wouldn’t be welcome in his house in the event of actual expulsion. And loathsome as it was to admit, home was the best place Kenny had.

“Go ahead,” Kenny said boredly to Craig now, flicking his cigarette butt into the sink. “Just make it quick.” Maybe if he got roughed up enough they’d let him skip the detention today.

Craig stomped towards Kenny and shoved him hard in the chest. Kenny smacked into the wall none too gently and made a sharp sound of protest as sudden pain flared throughout his back and shoulders. 

“You left him,” Craig breathed in murderous rage. “You left him, you stole from him you-” Craig shook his head. “He told me everything.”

“Oh boo hoo,” Kenny growled, rubbing his shoulder. “Did you tell _him_ everything?”

Craig narrowed his eyes. “I told him he should stay away from you,” he said evasively. “And now I’m telling you to stay away from him.”

“So no, then?” Kenny hissed, looking Craig up and down through slitted eyes. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to run away, or even shoved back. He was half leaning against the wall, already bracing himself against it to help absorb the next hit.

“Jesus, Kenny, you can’t do this to people!” Craig exploded. “You can’t draw them into your life and then self-destruct and make them take damage too! You…” Craig grabbed at the back of his neck, wishing he was instead using his hands to tear Kenny to pieces, but finding himself unable to continue attacking a smaller boy who was making it clear he wouldn’t fight back. 

“If you’re not going to hit me, I have a detention to get to.” Kenny said, but he didn’t move, was staring at Craig as though trying to determine something. “Did he really tell you everything?”

Craig nodded. “Everything,” he said firmly, willing himself to believe it.

“So you know, then.” Kenny said it with such quietness that Craig actually calmed his angry, ragged breathing as though he were trying to make it easier to hear Kenny better. That sickening feeling had started burbling in the pit of his stomach, and suddenly punching Kenny seemed like a good idea again.

_Everything went wrong because of jealousy… he acted like a total dick about it…_

No. He wouldn’t do that. 

“I’m just here to tell you to stop trying to talk to him. If something happened between you two, that’s none of my business,” Craig said, knowing it was true but tasting a lie. 

Kenny made a tutting sound. “Believe it or not some people have standards.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Craig demanded, anger flaring again, ready to defend against the horrendously offensive implication that Tweek was somehow _beneath_ Kenny McCormick.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean,” Kenny said bitterly, and with a definite air of self-hatred that made Craig immediately consider the other implication of Kenny’s previous statement. Craig wasn’t sure if that mollified him or made him angrier. Kenny wanted another cigarette, even though his chest was feeling kind of wheezy and he had a few sore spots in his mouth. Sadly, he’d smoked his entire supply. Maybe one of the Goth kids would sling him one, they were pretty much regulars in the detention hall…

“Kenny, just tell me you didn’t do anything else to him.” Craig growled. “We can call an end to it, I just need to know you didn’t hurt him in some fucked up way I don’t know about.” _Like you did with me_ , he refrained from adding.

“I didn’t…” Kenny started angrily, then stopped. He _had_ , he had absolutely hurt Tweek and it was something much worse than anything he’d done to Craig.

Craig’s eyes were on fire. “Tell me,” he demanded, wanting to shove Kenny again but holding back.

Kenny pulled his lips into a scowl, then finally blurted, “Craig, I told him about the coffee.”

Coffee? Tweek drank coffee, yes. What was Kenny getting at?

Kenny surveyed Craig’s blank expression and let out a huff that might have been a laugh if he weren’t looking so miserable. “I thought he already knew,” Kenny said in a pained voice. “Jesus, I thought _everyone_ knew.” Even though Craig had no idea what Kenny was talking about, he knew Kenny was telling the truth. 

“Kenny,” Craig said, and it was a tone that made Kenny’s heart hurt, because it was the tone Craig hadn’t used to say his name in a long time. “Kenny, please, I’m really worried about him.”

“You like him,” Kenny said, wanting to sound accusatory and bitter but not managing it at all. 

Craig held his stony expression for a good few seconds, but then nodded. “Yes. And I’m worried about him. Please tell me.”

Kenny was at a crossroads. Normally, when Kenny was at a crossroads, he picked a direction and barreled through at full speed, often leaving a six car pile up in his wake. Now, Kenny found himself doing something he used to be quite good at, but thought he’d forgotten how to do. Kenny was thinking about how what he did next would affect the people around him.

“Craig, Tweek’s parents put meth in their coffee.”

Craig felt the earth crack.

*


End file.
